But All Endings Are Also Beginnings
by Gillian Middleton
Summary: Alternate universe story Dean and Sam reunite after four years apart. Sam is burying his past, and Dean is holding his future. Baby story
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** _Endings & Beginnings_  
**Author:** Gillian Middleton  
**Characters:** _Sam & Dean_  
**Rating: **_G_**  
Total word count: **_2100_  
**Warning:** _You all knew it was coming. A baby story.  
_**Summary:** _Alternate universe story - Dean and Sam reunite after four years apart. Sam is burying his past, and Dean is holding his future.  
_Inspired by estrella30 and this post.

**But All Endings Are Also Beginnings**

**By **Gillian Middleton

The graveside was empty and Sam stood alone by the freshly dug hole, eyes on the smooth white coffin now laying at its heart. The mourners had departed, the priest had patted him on the shoulder and walked away with Jess's family.

Sam was alone.

His friends had taken his arm, tried to ease him away. "Come on, Sam," they'd murmured gently. "Let's go."

But Sam had pulled away, shaken his head mutely. Go where? Jessica had been his home, his future. His whole damn life. Where the hell was he supposed to go now?

The low growl of a car in the road behind him filtered through Sam's grief. Fresh anguish stirred in his chest and he pressed the back of his hand to burning eyes. Now his mind was playing tricks on him as well. That low throb of engine, that rattle-shake as it shut off. Even the squeak of that old door...

Sam spun around, breath catching in his throat.

The sun shining incongruously onto the green cemetery glinted off the chrome and immaculate black paintwork of the classic Chevy Impala. And lit the subtle streaks of gold in his brother's hair.

"Dean?" Sam whispered.

Dean was leaning back against the door of the car, looking just as he had the last time Sam had see him. Dusty jeans, dark blue shirt, worn leather jacket. It was as if he'd stepped right out of Sam's memory.

Sam's feet seemed to move of their own volition. He strode across the grass, pace quickening until he was almost jogging as he finally skidded to halt by the side of the access road. Dean hadn't moved a muscle, just watched him approach, lifted his head a little as Sam stared at him in disbelief.

"Dean," Sam whispered again, and then he was striking out, lightening fast punch whistling past Dean's ear as his brother ducked swiftly to the left.

"Still telegraphing your punches, Sammy," Dean said quietly.

"You son of a bitch," Sam grated out. "Four fucking years? And now you turn up? Now?"

Dean lifted one shoulder. "Just came to pay my respects."

Rage bubbled up in Sam, familiar, helpless. "Nice," he bit out. "I would have liked to do the same thing for my father. But you didn't even have the courtesy to tell me about his god dammed funeral!"

Dean dropped his eyes, jaw tightening. "Yeah," he acknowledged. "Sorry about that. Caleb told me you came to see him."

Sam shook his head bitterly. "I dropped everything," he spat. "I called everybody before finally talking to Caleb. You couldn't have called me, man? You had to tell me my father was dead in a fucking text message?"

"I was hurting, okay? I didn't want to talk... to anybody."

Sam smiled bitterly. "For two freaking years? And since when am I just anybody?"

"Do we have to get into this right now?" Dean said, looking past his brother to the grave site. Workers were carefully lifting away the fake grass, preparing to fill the hole in and bury Sam's past forever. Tears filled Sam's eyes and he faltered, rage dying, buried under a fresh avalanche of grief.

Dean's hand caught his arm. Squeezed.

"Get in the car, Sammy," he said gently.

Sam groped for the passenger door and Dean pulled it open and closed it behind him. He peered in the back for a second, then circled the car and climbed into the passenger seat. With a low growl the car started up and Sam closed his eyes, feeling the rumble of it up his spine.

Four years since he'd sat in this car, heard that throb, smelled the familiar scents of old leather and gun oil.

"Dean? What happened to Dad?"

Dean set his jaw, eyes firmly on the road. "I know what you know. Caleb found him collapsed at his front door. Something had sliced him up pretty bad."

Sam swallowed hard, remembering Caleb standing in the dusty meadow, telling him the story. Another graveside, another chapter of his life closed forever.

"Caleb called the paramedics, but it was too late. Dad... bled out without regaining consciousness."

"And you still have no idea what did it? You never found out?"

Dean shrugged. "Dad and I hadn't worked together in moths, Sam. I was out of the loop."

"Why? What happened between you and Dad, Dean?"

Dean just shook his head and Sam leaned his head back against the head rest wearily. His eyes were swollen and sore, he felt as if he'd shed a million tears already this week.

"I can't believe they're both gone," he said numbly. "I can't believe this damn thing has shown up again after all these years, and Dad isn't alive to see it."

Silence ticked by as Dean negotiated the narrow access roads through the cemetery. White tombstones gleamed, occasional angels with sad, bowed heads caught the eye. They swept past another crowd of mourners and Sam had to look away.

"So that is what killed her," Dean finally said. His voice was even, but Sam still knew his brother well enough to read the pallor of his skin, the tight grip of his hands on the steering wheel. Dean shot a glance at his rear view mirror.

"Yeah," Sam said dully. "I came home and found her... pinned to the ceiling." He broke off, voice shaking, fresh tears burning his eyes.

Dean nodded tightly. "I wondered. The date. The fire." He shook his head, glancing at his mirror again. "I hoped I was wrong..."

"How did you hear anyway?" Sam began, then almost jumped out of his skin at the low mewl coming from just behind him. He twisted in his seat and gaped.

There was a baby capsule strapped onto the back seat. A pink blanket stirred, a tiny fist emerged and the low cry sounded again.

"Dean," Sam said blankly. "There's a baby in the backseat."

Dean shot him a glance. "Yeah, I know."

"Dean?" Sam couldn't take his eyes off the small fist, the cap of fair, silky hair. Little pink face crumpled. "Why is there a baby in the backseat?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Because it's not safe to put a baby capsule in the front seat."

Sam tore his eyes from the crying child and gaped stupidly at his brother.

"She's my daughter, Sam," Dean told him, and pulled the car over to the side of the road.

Sam felt his mouth opening and closing, and was pretty sure he wanted words to come out. But all he actually did was stare as Dean climbed out of the car, opened the back door and fumbled in a carrier bag.

New details fought for control of his mind - pink bag. Bunnies printed on it - but Sam shook them away, unable to process this fresh information.

Dean pulled a pacifier out of the bag, popped the plastic lid off and eased it gently between soft lips. Little hands wavered, tiny fingers flexing as the baby drew on the object in her mouth. Eye lashes fluttered and dimpled cheeks smoothed out.

"That'll only hold her until I can get to the motel and get some milk down her neck," Dean said gruffly, jumping back behind the wheel. "So if you have any questions, now's the time."

Sam had questions. His gaze swung between the baby and his brother. Soft fluff of golden hair to the bristles of Dean's buzz cut. "I have questions," he agreed. "But honestly, man? I'm not sure I can take any more right now."

The lines in Dean's forehead eased, and his lips quirked as he shot his brother an understanding glance. "Where are you staying? I got a motel room with a spare bed."

Sam nodded and pulled out his phone. Zach answered on the first ring, his voice anxious.

"Sam? Where are you? Do you need me to come pick you up?"

"No, man, I'm okay," Sam told him. "My, er, my brother showed up."

"You have a brother?" Zach exclaimed. "Really?"

"Yeah, I have a brother."

Dean's brow rose.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Zach?" Sam drew a shaky breath. "Tell Jess's parents I'm sorry. I just can't..."

"Sam, it's okay," Zach broke in. "Everybody understands."

Sam nodded, tried to make himself believe it, couldn't really let it get to him. A part of him was already pulling away, from these friends, from this life. For all the mixed feelings he had towards his brother now, for all the questions...

He was so glad to see him. Sam already felt as if he could start breathing again. As if he actually now had a reason to go on.

"What's her name?" he said as they pulled up in the forecourt of a motel.

"Madeline." Dean shrugged apologetically. "I didn't name her."

Sam stood behind his brother and watched curiously as Dean unbuckled the safety capsule.

"Here," Dean said, thrusting the soft quilted bag into his hands and Sam found himself gazing again at happy smiling bunnies. Dean straightened and smirked. "I didn't buy the bag either."

"But you did actually father this child?" Sam said as Dean unlocked the motel room door one handed and shouldered his way inside.

"That I did," Dean confirmed. "Sam? There's a bottle in the bag, it's in one of those styrofoam warmer things. Get it out for me, will you?"

Sam rummaged through the bag, pulled out a pink romper and a blue teddy bear before locating the plastic covered case. Dean was unlocking a strap and Sam paused and watched as his brother's big hands slid gently under the tiny little body and eased her up. One hand cradled her butt, the other her narrow back and bobbing head as Dean brought her up to his shoulder. A square of toweling covered his leather jacket and he nestled the baby against it, smoothing over the soft cotton of her little suit.

"Wow," Sam said. "You really know what you're doing."

"Didn't have much choice," Dean said briefly. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the bottle. Then he curved the baby into the crook of his arm, eased the pacifier from between rosebud lips, and quickly replaced it with a bottle as her face creased in annoyance.

Instantly rounded cheeks began to work and little hands flexed in satisfaction.

Unable to resist, Sam reached out, stroked one tiny hand, drew in a surprised breath as long, thin fingers wrapped around his own larger digit.

Dean was watching him, one hand holding the bottle to the baby's mouth. The sight of his brother, perched on the end of a motel room bed, confidently feeding a baby...

"I can't take this in," Sam said, still feeling dazed. "Where's her mother?"

"Honestly?" Dean shook his head. "I have no idea. She took off about a month ago." His lips twisted. "Apparently it was all a little too 'real' for her."

"Still got great taste in women," Sam observed.

"What can I say? Maddy here was the result of too much tequila and a busted condom." Dean jiggled the feeding baby gently. "Sorry, kiddo."

"She's beautiful," Sam said sadly, and he couldn't help wondering. What would their babies have looked like, his and Jessica's? Would they have had a soft cap of fair hair like their mother? Or dark, like him? The little hand holding his finger squeezed and inconsequential details struck him. How tiny and perfect her fingernails were. How sweet and clean she smelled. How Dean did look older, now they were up close. Lines fanned out from his eyes, creases in his cheeks.

Gentle knowledge in his eyes as Sam finally met his brother's gaze.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean said, and tears welled and ran down Sam's cheeks, blinding him.

"She's dead, Dean," Sam said brokenly, covering his face with one hand, hunching his shoulders. "Because of me, because she loved me."

"No, Sam," Dean said firmly. "She's dead because of the thing that killed her. The same thing that killed Mom. Hell, that might have killed Dad too, for all we know. The thing we're gonna find, the thing we're gonna kill."

Sam sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. "How?"

Dean gazed down at the baby in his arms, suckling contentedly on her formula. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just know that neither of us has a choice. Maddy will be six months old in eleven weeks."

Mom died when he was six months old, Sam remembered. November the second. Exactly six months old. Eyes widening in sudden realization, Sam looked from Dean's grim face to the baby. His niece. Madeline Winchester.

"Oh god," he breathed.

Continued in Part Two


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** _Endings & Beginnings Chapter Two_  
**Author:** Gillian Middleton  
**Characters:** _Sam & Dean_  
**Rating: **_G_**  
Total word count: **_2200_  
**Warning:** _A baby story.  
_**Summary:** _Alternate universe story - Dean and Sam reunite after four years apart. Sam is burying his past, and Dean is holding his future._

**But All Endings Are Also Beginnings**

**Part Two**

**By **Gillian Middleton

Sam started out of a fitful sleep. The room was dim, lit only by a shaded lamp in the corner. Springs creaked and Sam blinked and yawned as Dean climbed out of the other bed and bent over the baby carrier.

"Shh, come here," Dean murmured, lifting the baby to his shoulder and patting her narrow back as the mewling cries grew louder.

"Want some help?" Sam whispered.

"Nah, I got it."

Sam lay on his side, mind remarkably clear as he watched Dean sooth the fretful baby, carrying her over to the kitchenette and grabbing a bottle of formula from the warmer. The first thing he'd noticed, when he could begin to think clearly again through his shock, was just how much stuff was involved in having a tiny baby around.

Tins of formula. Bottles and teats. Wipes and bibs and outfits so small that Sam had to hold them up in disbelief. And that wasn't even counting the diaper bag of doom, packed full of mysterious items and objects.

Dean seemed to know what he was doing.

Sam watched as Dean carried the baby to the bed and scooched back, leaning against the head board with his eyes half closed. Maddy was slurping greedily, little hands wavering as she patted the bottle and her father's fingers. It was odd, Sam mused. Four years since he'd seen Dean. Two years since that terse little text message telling him that Dad had died. Six days since the last time he'd kissed Jessica. The whole world had changed.

But stretched out here in yet another motel room, just a few feet from his brother's bed. It all felt so familiar.

"Dean?" he murmured. "What happened between you and Dad?"

Dean sighed, pulling the baby tighter to his chest. "No big bust up, or anything like that. We just started... splitting up for jobs. It seemed more practical to separate and meet up after a hunt. Then the separations got longer, and Dad called less and less." Dean shot Sam a glance. "Lot of things changed when you left, Sam."

"For me too," Sam admitted. "I just wish..." He sat up, pushing a hand through his hair. His funeral suit was neatly folded over a chair back, and Dean's t-shirt and track pants barely fit him. "I wish you'd called me, man. I needed to talk to you."

"Oddly enough what you needed wasn't my priority at the time, Sam," Dean said, a bitter twist to his mouth. The baby grunted and he pulled the bottle away and lifted her to his shoulder. Sam leaned forward, snagged the square of toweling and tossed it and Dean caught it and tucked it between his t-shirt and the baby's dribbling chin. Dean patted her back and shot his brother a glance, half shrugging. "Sorry," he said briefly. "I didn't mean that."

"Just because Dad and I weren't speaking," Sam said quietly. "Doesn't mean I wasn't a part of this family, Dean. You should have called."

"Yeah," Dean admitted somberly. "I should have."

"Was Dad...?" Sam tried to think of a way to ask. "Did he...?" But how do you phrase a question like that? _Did our father die thinking I hated him? Did he hate me?_

_Was his death my fault as well?_

"He missed you, Sammy." Dean patted the baby's back and she gave a tiny little burp. Sam tossed over a washcloth and Dean wiped her mouth and set her back to feeding. "And I'm pretty sure he regretted the hell out of that last fight."

"Did he say that?" Sam asked.

Dean snorted. "As if. When did Dad ever admit he was wrong about anything? But I know the man." Dean's long lashes lowered. "I knew the man. He was sorry about the way you two parted."

"He told me if I was going, not to come back," Sam said, traces of old resentment and pain threading through him.

"Yeah, and in the history of the world, how many times has a parent said that to their kid?" Dean retorted. "And in the history of the world, how many times has that kept the kid at home? It's just one of those stupid things people say, Sam." Dean slanted him a glance. "You said a few of those yourself, didn't you?"

Sam nodded. "I know. I'd give a whole lot to be able to take it back. But it's too late." Sam rubbed wearily at his eyes. "Is there a more pathetic phrase in the English language? Too late."

The baby had nodded off in his arms and Dean laid her down on the bed and unclipped her pink romper. Sam had already watched this process once, and he reached in the diaper bag and laid out disposable wipes, cream, and powder. Dean dealt with it swiftly and efficiently, and despite their serious conversation, Sam couldn't help a smile as hands more suited to guns and ammo unfastened the disposable and tossed it in the trash.

"What?" Dean said, wiping and powdering.

"How the hell did this happen, Dean?" Sam asked, nodding at the sleeping infant.

Dean shook out a diaper and wrapped it around narrow little hips. "Well, let's see," he said thoughtfully. "When a Mommy and Daddy love each other, they kiss in a special way."

"Ha ha," Sam said sourly.

Dean huffed a chuckle. "Yeah, well. After Dad," he said, pulling the romper suit back up and clipping it closed. "You know, when I wasn't really ready to talk to anyone? I kind of...uh..."

Sam remembered the tequila comment. "Crashed and burned?" he murmured, throat tight.

"Something like that." Dean laid a hand on the baby's round belly, stroking gently as little legs jerked and long lashes fluttered.

"I dropped out of school," Sam revealed and Dean stared at him in amazement. "Tracked down Caleb, visited Dad's grave. I looked for you, man."

Dean shook his head. "Probably better you didn't find me," he said. "I kinda hit rock bottom there for a while. You came back to school though?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to go," Sam said bleakly. "I was lucky to get back in."

"With your grades? They were lucky to get you," Dean retorted and Sam smiled ruefully.

"That's not quite how it works, Dean."

Dean acknowledged that with a nod. "What about now?"

"Now," Sam repeated. All week he'd been running on grief and pain. Getting through everything one day at a time. All week had been questions and tears and counting down the days until Jess's funeral. Sam realized suddenly why he'd found it so hard to walk away from the graveside today. Because, until he'd seen Dean, he honestly couldn't think of what he was supposed to do next. "Now I'm here with you," he said tiredly. "I can't think past that."

"Get some sleep, man," Dean advised, lifting the baby and laying her back in her carrier. "Tomorrow we'll start making plans."

666

Sometime around dawn Sam woke up from a dream. He knew this nightmare, he'd dreamt it every time he closed his eyes for the past six days.

He'd dreamt it before that too, but he couldn't think about that just yet.

All he could do was gasp for breath and stare up at the cigarette smoke-stained ceiling of the motel room, eyes still burning from the golden blaze of fire in his dream.

"You okay?" Dean asked, and Sam turned his head on the pillow. Dean was standing by the bed, baby on his shoulder.

"Peachy," Sam said shortly, rolling over and heaving himself into a sitting position. He hated waking up feeling more tired than when he'd gone to bed.

"You want some coffee or something?" Dean offered and Sam nodded.

Dean studied him for a moment longer, then held the baby out. "Here," he said brusquely. "Hold her for me."

Sam automatically put out his hands, and Dean laid the squirming bundle in his arms.

"Uh, Dean," Sam said, instinctively drawing her back against his chest. "I've never done this before."

"Yeah, been there, done that," Dean said unsympathetically. He crossed to the kitchenette and grabbed a couple of mugs. "She's not a grenade, Sam," he smirked as Sam gingerly supported the fragile little weight.

Sam glared at him and firmed his hold, easing her up against his shoulder as he'd seen his brother do so effortlessly. His hand seemed to swamp her back, her head naturally rested against him. She squirmed and he patted her, taking a deep breath and recognizing the powder and the clean diaper scent.

"Hey, Maddy," he murmured, stroking her gently.

The sweet scent turned sour and Sam peered over at the curdled milk now decorating his t-shirt and soaking damply through the thin material to his skin.

"Not a grenade, hey?" he remarked as Dean's shoulders shook with laughter. "Yeah, laugh it up. It's your t-shirt."

666

"Just coffee, thanks," Sam said as the waitress pulled out her pencil. Her attention wasn't on him however, she was gazing into the baby capsule and cooing at Maddy.

"Look at that little princess," she simpered.

Dean smiled paternally, eyes taking in the ample cleavage exposed as the waitress leaned over and tickled the baby's chin.

Sam rolled his eyes and settled back against the worn old leatherette of the booth.

"Just coffee, please," he said a little more loudly.

"Sure, honey," the waitress said amiably. "And for daddy?"

Dean rattled off his order while the woman batted her eyelashes at him. "Never fails," he smirked at Sam as she winked at him and swayed away. "I guarantee I'll get free pie out of the deal."

"Tell me you don't use your poor motherless child to pick up women," Sam said sarcastically.

"Use is such a harsh word, Sammy," Dean returned. "Can I help it if single fathers are absolute babe magnets?"

Sam shook his head and fiddled with the sugar packets. "Dean, we have to talk about this." He looked around the crowded diner and lowered his voice. "About this hunt."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "We'll look around town, ask some questions. See if there's a history of mysterious fires."

"So we're gonna do it? We're actually gonna hunt this thing down?"

"We're gonna try."

Sam accepted his coffee with an absent nod of thanks. "But, Dean, Dad tried for twenty years to find it. What makes you think we'll have a chance in hell of tracking it down?"

"Because it's started killing again?" Dean said. "I don't know, Sam. I just know we have to try." He glanced down at Maddy sleeping in her carrier, soft blanket pulled up over her chest. One little fist was bunched against her cheek, the other hand flexed against the fuzzy pink of her romper suit. "I don't have a choice."

"That's something else we're gonna have to talk about," Sam added. "What are you going to do with Maddy while we hunt?"

Dean looked at him like he was crazy. "I'm not gonna do anything with her, Sam. She's coming with us."

Sam stared at him, dumbfounded. "You're kidding me."

"Look, Sam, Dad managed to look after us while he hunted."

"Oh, you so don't want to go there," Sam said hotly.

"And it's not like she's walking around or anything. She sleeps, she eats. She's no trouble."

"Dean, are you crazy? We're not going on an Easter Egg hunt here! It's dangerous. You cannot drag a tiny infant along with us. No. No way."

"And where am I supposed to leave her, Sam?" Dean demanded. "Tell me someplace that's safe? You know a handy child minder that can ward off evil? Even assuming this thing can be warded off? Huh? Do you?"

Sam bit his lip, seeing for the first time the desperate worry in his brother's eyes. One hand clenched the side of the baby's carrier, knuckles white with strain.

"No," Sam answered honestly. "But how are we supposed to keep her safe while we hunt? I've seen what this thing can do now, Dean." Memories rose up in his mind, horrible, beyond belief. "It's not just some horror story any more. Jessica... She was..." He broke off, unable to continue.

Dean's angry frown softened and his hand loosened its tight hold. Maddy stirred and he stroked gently at her soft, round cheek. "I don't know, Sammy," he admitted quietly. "I just know I have to keep her close to me. If I can't protect her, no one can. And if it tries to take her it's going to have to kill me to do it."

Sam's gaze followed Dean's fingers as they delicately caressed peach-soft skin, watching the way, even in her sleep, his brother's daughter turned her head towards his touch. Her eyes opened, and in the bright morning light Sam could see that they were just like Dean's; hazel green, framed by long lashes.

_if it tries to take her it's going to have to kill me to do it_

"Me too," he said huskily, and Dean studied his face for long moments, then acknowledged the words with a nod.

Continued in Part Three


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** _Endings & Beginnings Chapter Three_  
**Author:** Gillian Middleton  
**Characters:** _Sam & Dean_  
**Rating: **_G_**  
Total word count: **_2600_  
**Warning:** _A baby story. Angst.  
_**Summary:** _Alternate universe story - Dean and Sam reunite after four years apart. Sam is burying his past, and Dean is holding his future.  
_**Authors Note: **_I am still calling this story pre-slash - but Wincesters might find they have a long wait for the fun to begin. It's in my big picture, but it turns out the boys have a lot to sort out before they can even begin to think like that. Go figure. Long story short - this story will be Gen for the time being. _

**But All Endings Are Also Beginnings**

**Part Three**

**By **Gillian Middleton

Sam tapped his knee against the dashboard impatiently, looking at his watch for the dozenth time. Outside the Chevy a patrol car pulled up and a group of cops walked down the steps of the precinct. Sam looked away, trying to come across as casual.

The baby gurgled and Sam glanced over his shoulder as she kicked her legs and squealed. The pacifier in her mouth rocked rhythmically as she sucked, her little fingers pressed against each other as she peered at them, eyes crossing.

"If the wind changes your face is gonna stay like that," he told her, remembering Dean saying the same thing to him, years before.

It was weird to think he'd once sat in a baby seat back there as well.

Maddy's head turned at the sound of his voice and she tried to focus on him, legs still kicking in her little romper. Sam studied her, looking for traces of his brother in her features. She had Dean's eyes, that was for sure, looking absurdly feminine in that little pink face. And maybe that bow of lips would one day look like his. Hard to tell from the rest of her though, her nose was a tiny button, and her hair was a soft golden fluff.

Dean was a dad. Sam had to admit the thought still freaked him out a little. He thought about his own dad and his heart twisted. Two years. Dad had been gone for two years.

Maddy squealed again, then spat out her pacifier and began to cry in earnest, arms and legs pumping, face turning red. Sam studied her for a moment, amazed that anything so small could generate so much noise. Then he sighed and climbed out of the front seat. He opened the creaking back door and braced himself on the side of the car, peering into the dim interior.

"I know you're not hungry," he said. "And Dean just changed your diaper. So, what's up?"

Maddy waved her arms and continued to wail, pink face screwing up alarmingly.

"Okay, okay." Sam gave in and unbuckled her, carefully supporting her head and butt as he picked her up and held her to his shoulder. Immediately her sobs tapered off and she wiggled enthusiastically.

Sam looked into her contented little face. "You're just a big pretender like your father, aren't you?" he accused, and Maddy gurgled and reached for his nose. He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the car, submitting to the thorough exploration of his face by damp, little fingers. There was something curiously comforting about the fragile weight against his shoulder, the gentle touch of tiny hands on his skin. Maddy's hazel-green eyes focused on his intently and she dribbled happily down her chin.

"I'm your Uncle Sam," Sam told her, meeting that direct gaze. He chuckled at the name. "Uncle Sam."

Sudden guilt assailed him and a lance of pain stole his breath. What was he doing? Standing out here in the sun, cuddling a baby in his arms. Laughing, like nothing had happened. When Jessica was...

Dean bounded down the steps of the police station and headed towards him, nodding amiably at a couple of uniformed cops. Sam turned, busied himself tucking Maddy back into her carrier, head averted as he bent to his task.

"Anything?"

Dean shook his head, pulling out his San Francisco PD badge and tossing it through the passenger door onto the dash. "Three mysterious fires reported in the last year. One factory, the detective thinks it was torched for insurance. One empty store where some homeless people started a fire that got out of control." Dean shot him a sympathetic glance. "And Jessica."

"I told you I would have heard if anyone else had died that way. It's the kind of thing I would have paid attention to."

"Old habits die hard," Dean agreed. he nodded at Maddy who was absorbed in her pacifier once more. "She okay there?"

"She was crying," Sam said defensively.

Dean slanted him a smile. "It's okay, Sam. You're allowed to pick her up if you want."

Sam shrugged and Dean lowered his voice. "You're even allowed to smile at her, you know?"

Sam just stared back at him stonily, guilt still flooding him. Dean didn't understand, how could he? He still had the person that mattered most to him.

But there was a sad knowledge in his brother's eyes as he gazed back at him, and Sam bowed his head, avoiding those knowing eyes.

"What next?" he asked flatly.

Dean looked at him a moment longer, then quirked a smile. "The store. I need diapers and formula. Seriously, Sam, it's cheaper to run a car than a kid."

666

"So, Madeline, huh?" Sam said thoughtfully. "It's nice - I like it." He pushed the brush down the barrel of the 12 gauge and pulled it back out a few times, checking the cleaning patch for oil.

"I told you, I didn't choose it." Dean clicked open a shotgun and peered down the sights.

Sam raised a curious brow, laying the gun aside and picking up his .45. "Didn't you want to name your own daughter?"

"Yeah, well, the thing with that?" Dean said dryly. "When her mother told me she was pregnant, I basically tossed her a couple of hundreds and told her to get rid of it. I figure I gave up any right to tell the woman what to name her kid after that."

Sam grimaced. "Ouch."

Dean shrugged. "Told you I hit rock bottom."

Sam glanced at Maddy asleep in her carrier between the beds. Her belly was rounded again after her feed and she was sucking on her fingers, eyelids flickering. "But Maddy's mother obviously didn't get an abortion. And you're here for the baby now."

"Somebody had to be," Dean said tartly, then he huffed out a breath and shook his head. "No, that's not fair," he amended. "She did try, Sam. It wasn't in her nature, but she tried. I have to give her that."

"And she just left?" Maddy snuffled in her sleep and Sam shook his head in disbelief. "How could she do that?"

"She had her reasons, I guess," Dean dismissed, and Sam recognized a subject closed sign when he heard it.

"So, what next?"

"I don't think there's anything to find in Palo Alto," Dean stated. "This thing is long gone. I do have an idea though."

"Yeah?"

"Caleb is holding onto Dad's truck. There was a bunch of stuff in there, books, research, papers. His journal."

Sam nodded soberly. Their father never went anywhere without his journal. Everything he knew about every evil creature he'd ever hunted was in there.

"So, Caleb's place?"

"I guess."

666

Some time in the depths of the night Sam stirred awake to the gentle rumble of Dean's voice. He blinked and focused on Dean in his familiar spot on the side of the bed, Maddy curved in the corner of his arm. Outside a car horn honked and raucous laughter echoed down the street. Sam idly wondered what time it was as he watched Dean touch the milky teat to his daughter's lips.

All day long Sam had been watching Dean take care of Maddy. Choose her formula and mix it up. Change her diapers with deft, practiced hands. Confidently rest her against his shoulder and rub her back until she burped.

But now, for the first time, he saw his brother completely unguarded with his daughter. Maddy suckled, long lashes casting shadows on her face as she gazed trustingly upwards. And Dean gazed back, touched his lips to her wavering hand, leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Suddenly Sam felt his grief rise up within him again, as sharp as a knife blade in his heart.

He missed Jessica. He missed the soft sound of her breath as she slept next to him. He missed the unwavering love in her eyes when she smiled at him. He missed the dreams of the future she'd shared with him. The awe he'd felt when he realized she meant a future with him.

Hopes and dreams and possibilities.

Maddy had dozed off and Dean pulled the bottle from her pursing lips, nestling her against his shoulder and laying his cheek on her downy head. Sam closed his eyes as tears seeped slowly into the pillow. Yesterday Sam had buried his past, walked away from it, left it behind. The future was an unknown road, stretching out before him.

But Dean could hold his future in his arms, cradle her close, convince himself that he could keep her safe.

Sam's arms ached, and he turned his face into the pillow and sought the oblivion of sleep.

666

"Bad night?" Dean asked lightly.

Sam shrugged. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool, his eyes scratchy and tired. "I'm okay," he dismissed.

Dean shot him a quick glance, then fixed his attention back on the road. "Yeah. Right."

"I'm okay, Dean," Sam said quietly. "I just need to be doing something, that's all."

Dean looked up into his rear view mirror. "Yeah."

666

Sam pulled the tarp off the truck, turning his head and grimacing at the dust that billowed up in a cloud. He tossed the canvas aside and jingled the set of keys in his hand. Dad's truck.

Dean hadn't said much since they arrived, hanging back with Maddy's carrier in one arm and his duffel bag over the other. Their father's old friend had greeted them both with a handshake and a smile, then showed them to his spare room

Caleb Brewer had started out as a hunter of animals, and graduated somewhere along the line to the other sort of hunter. His house still boasted a wall full of trophies. Deer and elk and cougar heads gazed down with glazed, glass eyes.

He kept his less public trophies in the basement.

Dean gazed around the spare room, studied his wide eyed daughter in her carrier, and proceeded to throw towels and pillow cases over the grisly trophy heads.

"This kid is gonna be traumatized enough," he said shortly as Sam watched him work. "She doesn't need to grow up with a morbid fear of Bambi."

Once the baby had dozed off they didn't have an excuse to put it off any longer, and Sam unlocked the truck door and took a deep breath of stale air.

It still smelled like Dad.

The space behind the front seat was crammed with books, the glove box boasted fake ID's from all over the country. And on the dashboard sat the old leather journal, bristling with paper and yellowing newspaper clippings. Sam lifted it down, just holding it in his hands for long moments, a thousand memories playing in his mind. As a child he'd thought this book held the answer to every question there was. As an adult he could only hope there was an answer here somewhere.

666

Sam trekked the dimly lit hall to the book stuffed study, pushing open the door with a soft creak and studying his brother, bent over a pile of books as he had been all week.

"Any luck?"

"Yeah," Dean said, not looking up from the page. "That's why I'm jumping for joy."

"You need to get some sleep, man."

Dean rubbed his eyes tiredly. "That's rich coming from you, Sam. Have you slept more than a few hours a night all week?"

"I don't have a daughter to look after."

Dean slammed the book closed and glared up at him. "Yeah, well, that's what I'm trying to do here. Look after my daughter. Find some answers." He looked back down at the book under his hand and then suddenly shoved it off the table. "Dammit!" he swore as the heavy tome hit the ground and papers fluttered. "There's nothing here. Twenty years of hunting and there's just nothing here."

"I know," Sam agreed. They'd searched every book Dad had. Read his journal from cover to cover.

"Witches, ghosts, poltergeists," Dean said bitterly. "Curses? We got 'em. Demons? Up the wazoo. But the damn reason he got into this business in the first place? Nothing. It's like it just disappeared off the face of the earth."

"We knew this wasn't gonna be easy, Dean," Sam said, trying to be reasonable. He was as frustrated as his brother, and Dean was right. He hadn't been sleeping. He'd barely been eating. If it wasn't for the fact that one of them needed to be looking after Maddy, he doubted whether they would have left this study in days.

"What am we supposed to do next, Sam?" Dean demanded. "This thing came for Mom, it came for Jessica. There's a part of me that knows it's coming after Maddy next, and I just don't know what the hell to do. If we only knew why," he said desperately. "Why November the second. Why your nursery, your girlfriend."

Sam stiffened.

"You were exactly six months old. Did that even mean anything?" Dean wondered aloud. "Is it even Maddy's six month birthday we should be worrying about? Or next November the second?"

"Or me," Sam interrupted quietly.

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Well, you said it, Dean. My nursery, my girlfriend. My mother."

"She was my mother too, Sam. She was Dad's wife. This isn't just about you."

"Really?" Sam said bitterly. "Then why wasn't Maddy's mother burning on the ceiling, Dean? Why Jessica and not her?"

"Because I didn't love her!" Dean snapped. "Okay? The woman had my baby, and I didn't give a damn about her."

Sam blinked, shocked into silence by the blunt outburst.

"Don't you get it, Sam? Dad loved Mom. You loved Jessica. And Maddy... She's..." Dean drew in a ragged breath. "This thing. It takes away the ones we love. That's what it does. And we can't stop it."

Sam closed his eyes against the raw, naked pain on his brother's face.

All his life, all his memories of Dad. Sam knew now. The man had been broken. He felt it inside himself, since Jessica. He understood it as he never had before. To love someone that much. To take them into yourself and become a part of them. And then to watch helplessly as they suffered and died. It broke something inside of you. Something irreplaceable.

Dad couldn't have seen it coming. Sam had been warned and he hadn't understood enough to heed the warning.

But Dean had to live every day with what might lay in wait for Maddy. And every day he wrapped his arms around that fragile, little life he'd help create, and faced the fact that he might be destined to lose her. No wonder he was breaking in front of Sam's eyes.

"No," Sam said, not even knowing he was going to speak until the word was out. "That's not gonna happen."

"Damn straight," Dean shot back. "But we're not gonna find any answers here. We have to try something else."

"I think I know what," Sam said, drawing in a deep breath. He'd been holding this inside him for weeks, but now it had to come out.

He wasn't looking forward to it.

"What?"

"We have to face the fact that we're not gonna do in a few weeks what a hunter like Dad couldn't do in twenty years," Sam said starkly. "I mean, you know that. Right?"

Dean set his jaw and nodded.

"So maybe we should stop hunting it, and concentrate on finding a way to kill it."

"Which does us zero good if we can't find it," Dean pointed out.

Sam just looked at him.

Dean blinked, and then shook his head slowly. "No," he said in disbelief. "No way."

Sam stared back stonily.

"Sammy," Dean said incredulously. "Tell me you're not talking about using my daughter as monster-bait?"

"She's already bait, Dean," Sam said harshly. "If this thing is coming for her, then she's already marked."

Dean shook his head, looking stunned.

"But if we can find a way to kill it-"

"That's a big if. We don't even know what it is!"

"Then we have to find something that will kill anything."

"Oh, simple as that," Dean said sarcastically. "And once we find this magic-mojo, then what? Stake her nursery out every night? If we don't find it, we don't know its timetable."

Sam swallowed hard, heart pounding in its chest. "There might be a way."

Dean stared at him. "What?"

"Before Jessica died," Sam began hesitantly. "I had these dreams..."

Continued in Part Four


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** _Endings & Beginnings Chapter Four_  
**Author:** Gillian Middleton  
**Characters:** _Sam & Dean_  
**Rating: **_G_**  
Total word count: **_2300_  
**Warning:** _A baby story. Angst.  
_**Summary:** _Alternate universe story - Dean and Sam reunite after four years apart. Sam is burying his past, and Dean is holding his future. _

**But All Endings Are Also Beginnings**

**Part Four**

**By **Gillian Middleton

The highway stretched out ahead of them, the setting sun was blazing spectacular shades of red and gold behind them. Metallica was blaring from the speakers and Sam glanced behind him at the baby who was sleeping peacefully.

"Doesn't that bother her?"

"Apparently not."

Sam slanted his brother a glance. Dean hadn't said much all day, just agreeing with Sam about their destination and driving the car.

"You mad at me?"

"No."

Sam surveyed him a moment longer.

"You're mad at me," he concluded.

Dean sighed and flicked a look his way. "I'm not mad at you, Sam," he said firmly. "I'm just trying to... process."

"But you do believe me?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "I mean, we've seen some pretty strange things. Done some pretty strange things. But psychic dreams?"

"I know," Sam acknowledged. "That's the kind of thing that happens to other people, not to us."

"Exactly."

"But, Dean, I ignored it when it happened, because I thought the same thing. I convinced myself they were just dreams. Nightmares. And Jessica died."

Dean's lips tightened. "You probably couldn't have done anything to stop it anyway, Sam," he said sympathetically. "Even if you'd known it was really coming."

Sam turned back to the view outside, long shadows flashing across his face, momentarily blinding him. "I could have tried. I could have tried to keep her safe."

Dean drove silently for a few minutes while Sam struggled to retain his composure.

"It just seems pretty flimsy to hang our hopes on." Dean finally said

"If that was all we had, I'd agree. But it's not all. We have Dad's journal, we have the names of his contacts. Somebody must be able to help us. And if I do dream again, then maybe this time we can stop it from happening."

Dean glanced into his rearview mirror, then took a deep breath. "All right," he said briskly. "How many names have we got?"

"About two dozen," Sam said, pulling out the list. "I started running them through Lexus Nexus and I've already crossed off three. Deceased."

"It's a dangerous game," Dean acknowledged. "Only twenty odd? I thought there were more names than that?"

"Yeah, well, I didn't count the ones that were crossed out. Figured they were dead.'

Dean snorted. "This is Dad we're talking about here, Sammy. I mean, I loved the man, but he had a knack for pissing people off."

"No kidding," Sam muttered.

"Could be the crossed-off names are just people he didn't want to talk to any more. Or who wouldn't talk to him."

Sam considered this. "Good point. I'll go back through it tonight and add their names. That should widen our chances." He ran his eye down the list again, some names familiar, some not. "Dean?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Dad spent twenty years hunting it. Do you think he had a plan for what he'd do if he found it?"

"Dad always had a plan." Dean nodded at the journal. "We just gotta hope he confided it to one of them."

666

The shower was running in the bathroom and Sam was rummaging through his duffel bag for his notebook. He glanced over at Maddy's carrier, sitting safely on the table, noting that the baby was yawning around her pacifier, long eye lashes fluttering as she stirred awake. He gave up the search for socks and unzipped her bunny bag, pulling out the various paraphernalia needed to change a four month old baby and laying it out in preparation.

He sat down at the table as she snuffled and snorted awake, fingering the quilted fabric of the bag absently. Sam wondered if he'd ever get used to it. Pink socks with lace around the top. Bibs with smiling stars or gamboling teddy bears printed on them. The color pink... everywhere.

Sam wondered if Dean ever felt this way, ever looked at his khaki duffel and old leather weapons bag and questioned whether these two worlds could ever fit together.

It reminded Sam of when he'd first moved into the apartment with Jess. How fascinated he'd been with all the bottles and lotions, the dainty minutiae of a woman's life. He remembered helping her make the bed, laying out frilly pillows and satin cushions that they didn't even use. She'd laughed when he asked her what the hell they were for, but at the same time there was a sad kind of knowledge in her eyes. Like it hurt her that Sam had grown up deprived of the soft, useless things of life.

Maddy was awake and making those snuffling little sighs that indicated she wanted some attention or food or both, pretty darn quickly, and Sam shook off his grief and lifted her out onto the table.

She brightened up immediately, batting her long lashes and blowing bubbles happily. Sam shook his head. If those big hazel-green eyes weren't a dead giveaway he'd have known this was Dean's kid just from this. Flirtation must be in the genes. Sam had a quick mental picture of this baby girl as a teenager and couldn't help chuckling. Dean was in for some major headaches, and karma was a real bitch.

"You hungry?" Sam asked her, sitting her up on her padded bottom, one hand supporting her nodding head.

"Na," she drooled. "Nnnnna nana."

"No, it's Sam," he said into her wide eyes. "Sa Sa Saaam."

"Na!"

"Close enough," Sam decided. He laid her back down and unfastened her disposable diaper, wiping and powdering like a pro. Dean was usually at hand to mix formula and feed her, and he would wake in the night the minute she stirred for her feed. But he had no problem at all drafting his brother in for diaper duty, and so Sam was becoming quite the expert. He fastened the last sticky tab and tickled Maddy's round belly, just to hear her squeal with laughter. His earlier dark mood had drifted away and he leaned over and blew a raspberry on her tummy, wincing as she grabbed his hair and tugged.

"Ow ow," he grimaced, pulling long fingers free. "That's some grip you got there. How about this?" And he blatted another raspberry on her cheek, lifting her up in the air and dodging her hands as she squirmed and squealed with laughter.

Then Sam looked up. His brother was standing in the doorway, rubbing a towel over his hair, jeans slung low around his hips.

Maddy was still chuckling and wriggling, patting enthusiastically at his face, and Sam felt an embarrassed flush rising in his cheeks.

"Gotcha," Dean smirked, tossing the towel aside and sauntering into the room. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist her for much longer."

"I wasn't trying to resist her," Sam said defensively, pulling down her soft little shirt and settling her on his his lap. "Why would I?"

"Don't worry about it, Sam." Dean pulled a worn, white t-shirt over his head. "You lasted longer than I did."

Maddy squealed and kicked to get his attention and Sam tickled her tummy, taking in his brother's words.

"Why would you try to resist her?"

Dean sat down on the side of his bed and looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Because we were planning on giving her away, Sam. Her mother and me. We were planning to give her up for adoption."

Sam's arms tightened around the baby on his lap automatically. "You're kidding?"

Dean shrugged. "It seemed like it would be the best thing for her. Give her to a real family to take care of her."

"You're her family," Sam said, still finding it hard to take in. "You're her father."

"And here I am," Dean reminded him. "But before she was born I wasn't exactly feeling very fatherly." He reached out his arms and Maddy arched in Sam's hold, squealing happily, then thrusting herself forward as Sam handed her over. "Hey, Maddy-girl."

"I don't get it," Sam said in genuine confusion, watching as Dean hugged the baby and let her curl happily into his neck. "What the hell happened to you after Dad died, Dean? I mean, you tell Maddy's mother to get an abortion, you talk about giving up your own flesh and blood. That's not you, man. You were always the one trying to hold our family together."

"And look at all the good it did me," Dean shot back. "You left, Dad left. Then just like that he was gone, and I was alone." He stood, kissing Maddy on the cheek and then laying her down in her carrier. She fussed unhappily, blinking long lashed eyes up at him soulfully. He leaned over her little portable crib, letting her wrap her hand around one callused finger.

"You didn't have to be alone," Sam reminded him quietly. "You knew where I was, Dean."

"Yeah, well, like I told you," Dean began.

"You hit rock bottom for a while," Sam interrupted. "I know, you told me. Just what does that mean, Dean?"

Dean looked at him, face enigmatic. "I hope you never have to find out, Sammy."

"And what the hell does that mean?" Sam said angrily. "This mystery stuff is bogus, Dean, I am so over it. Now talk to me, man. What happened?"

"You really want to know?" His brother looked up, the lamplight over his shoulder caught his eyes, highlighted the tense line of his jaw. "I was angry, Sam. I was angry at Dad for getting himself killed. I was angry at you for leaving. Hell, I was angry at both of you for smashing everything apart in the first place. But mostly I was angry with myself, because I was twenty-four years old and I didn't have a fucking life of my own."

His voice had risen and Maddy stirred unhappily, her discontented squeaks rising to loud cries, almost drowning out his angry words.

"You think I wasn't angry?" Sam demanded, temper flaring. "Dad told me to leave, he cut me out of his life. And you? You just went along. Turned your back on me, Dean. Do you have any idea how it feels to find out that your father is dead in a text message? To not have one person to turn to who understands what you're grieving for? You think it doesn't kill me that the last thing I said to him..." Sam choked up, couldn't get it out.

The last thing he'd told his father was to go to hell. Sam had racked his brain for days, but for the life of him he couldn't remember the last thing he said to Jess. He couldn't even remember if he'd kissed her goodbye when he went out that night.

Maddy's cries had grown in volume and Dean lifted her from her crib and cradled her, patting her back gently. "Shh," he whispered. "I'm here."

Sam turned away, swiping roughly at his eyes with the back of his hand. His anger had died as quickly as it was born, crushed under the remembrance of grief. "Is she okay?" he said thickly.

Maddy's cries died to hiccupping sobs and Sam glanced over his shoulder. Dean was rubbing her back, her little head resting tiredly on his shoulder. "She doesn't like raised voices, I guess," Dean said, pressing a soothing kiss to her temple. "God knows she heard enough of them for the first few months of her life."

Sam heaved a weary sigh and sat down at the table. Maddy's pink blanket had been pulled loose as Dean lifted her, and Sam reached in and straightened it, smoothing his fingertips over the soft quilted cotton. "I'm sorry."

Maddy was drifting off to sleep and Dean sat back on the other chair, still patting her narrow back. "Yeah, me too," he said, his voice drained. "I know I should have called, Sam. I wasn't thinking straight I guess." He shifted Maddy in his arms, curved her closer against him. "I wasn't thinking straight for a long time."

"We all made mistakes," Sam said sadly. "We all did and said stuff we wish we could take back. But we can't let that happen again, Dean. You and me... We're all we've got."

Dean quirked a small smile. "You and me and Maddy," he amended. "Not exactly the picture-perfect family, but we are family, Sam. If we stick together, none of us have to be alone again."

Sam managed a small smile of his own. "Fatherhood making you wise, Dean?"

"Must be," Dean agreed tartly. "I realized one thing, Sammy, when Maddy came along. Dad wouldn't have wanted me to tear myself apart over his death. And I didn't know Jessica - but I don't think she'd have minded you finding some comfort in your family." Dean leaned over and Sam reached out, let his brother gently deposit his sleeping child in his arms. She was a warm, fragile bundle against him, soft snuffling sighs, clean, baby scent.

"Because that's what Maddy does, Sam. It's what she did for me. Made me remember the good things in the world, when for a long time all I could see was the bad. It's what she does best. Well," Dean tilted his head in consideration. "That, and drool. She's a world class drooler."

Sam huffed a chuckle and Maddy rocked in his arms as his chest rose and fell with silent laughter. "Shh," he admonished. "Don't make me laugh."

"Put her back in her crib," Dean advised. "If you pick her up every time she cries, you're just gonna spoil her."

"If I pick her up?" Sam whispered indignantly. "You're the one..."

"I'm going out to get dinner," Dean interrupted, pulling on his socks. "Pizza okay?"

Sam glared at him for a moment longer, then rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Dean grinned.

Continued in Part Five


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** _Endings & Beginnings Chapter Five_  
**Author:** Gillian Middleton  
**Characters:** _Sam & Dean_  
**Rating: **_G_**  
Total word count: **_2400_  
**Warning:** _A baby story. Angst.  
_**Summary:** _Alternate universe story - Dean and Sam reunite after four years apart. Sam is burying his past, and Dean is holding his future._

**But All Endings Are Also Beginnings**

**Part Five**

**By **Gillian Middleton

Sam was flaked out on the spare bed, big feet hanging over the edge, soft breaths ruffling the long hair over his brow. Dean laid out a clean romper for Maddy, then started unbuttoning the one she was wearing, gently loosening press-studs and threading waving arms and legs free.

Maddy squealed and arched her back, wriggling under her father's attention.

"Shh," Dean whispered, glancing at Sam. His brother hadn't had a full nights sleep since Dean had picked him up in Stanford, and Dean was guiltily aware that some of that was down to having a young baby sharing their motel room. Maddy was a good baby, but they were lucky if she slept five hours straight. And she wasn't backwards about making sure that if she was awake, everyone else must be awake as well.

Sam twitched in his sleep, eyelashes fluttering.

"Let your uncle sleep," Dean murmured, stripping off Maddy's diaper and lifting her into his arms. He closed the bathroom door behind him with a gentle click, and held Maddy easily in one arm while he twisted the faucets in the shower to just the right temperature. Then he dropped the towel at his waist and stepped into the recessed cubicle.

Dean kept his back to the water, making sure it landed gently on the baby's tender skin. Maddy wrinkled her nose and looked unsure for a moment or two, then Dean turned a little, letting more of the warm water wash over her. She finally remembered she'd done this before and began slapping her hands at the spray, sputtering and chuckling as it splashed onto her pink cheeks.

Dean contented himself with rotating under the shower, letting the warm water soothe limbs weary from hours of driving. It felt as if he and Sam had cris-crossed the country in the last few weeks, following up one contact after another. Maddy slapped starfish hands against his chest and he smiled down at her, enjoying her innocent pleasure. Neither of them really needed a shower, and most days Maddy made do with a quick wipe-over with a damp cloth. But the warm spray was relaxing, and Dean was content to let the water wash over them now, easing away the worries of the day.

A noise from outside the door caught his attention and Dean stepped back out of the spray, tilting his head and listening hard.

"Dean?" There was a bellow from his brother and the bathroom door slammed open. Dean gripped Maddy tight in one arm and braced himself for danger. "Dean?" The shower curtain was ripped back and Sam stood there, bare-foot and haggard, tears glistening in his eyes.

"What is it?" Dean said urgently, looking over his brother's shoulder at the tumbled bedclothes, the empty motel room. "Sam?" he pressed, shutting off the faucet with his free hand. His brother was gaping at him dumbly.

"I couldn't find Maddy," Sam said blankly and Dean frowned at the wide-eyed stare. Damned if Sam didn't look like he was suffering from shock.

"We're having a shower," Dean said. "What the hell did you come busting in here for? You scared the crap outta me."

Sam swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again, still looking dazed. "I woke up," he mumbled. "And Maddy's crib was empty." Lips trembling, Sam looked up at him. "Dean. I saw it. I dreamed it."

Dean snagged a towel from the rack and thrust it at his brother. "Take Maddy," he ordered, and Sam frowned at him for a moment longer, then held out the towel and accepted his niece into its folds. Dean picked his own towel up off the floor and wrapped it around his waist. He led the way into the bedroom and Sam followed, hands automatically patting the thin motel towel on Maddy's back, blotting up the moisture. The baby's damp curls looked dark gold in the lamplight and Dean flicked on another light before reaching out and taking his daughter from Sam.

"Talk to me, Sam," Dean ordered.

Sam swallowed hard but nodded. "I dreamed it, Dean. Like I dreamed about Jessica."

Dean sat down on the bed, his legs suddenly feeling weak under him. "You've had lots of dreams," he said, trying to be reasonable.

"Not like this," Sam said desperately. "It wasn't even like a dream. More like... a vision."

"A vision," Dean repeated flatly.

Sam sat down opposite him and leaned forward urgently. "I told you, Dean. I dreamed about Jessica, about the night she died. For days before it happened. And it was vivid. Real."

Dean absorbed this, nodding. "And this vision was like that?"

Sam nodded, eyes still wide, pupils looking blown. "I saw it," he said, voice shaking. "This time I saw it." He seemed to seek for words. "Dean. I think it's a demon."

Dean frowned. "You mean someone possessed by a demon?"

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean. A demon. In its own form. It had these eyes." Sam's face crumpled for a moment. "Yellow-green. Putrid, like pus."

"Gross," Dean muttered, arms tightening around Maddy. She was leaning against him, gazing up at him quietly, as if sensing something was wrong. "But why a demon? There's lots of things it could have been."

"I don't know." Sam shook his head. "I just felt this power from it. Felt what it could do, without lifting a finger. Dean, when I dreamed about Jessica, it was me, in the dream. Vision, whatever. Me on the bed, feeling the blood dripping, looking up and seeing her. But this time..." Sam gazed at him. "I saw it while it was happening."

"Tell me exactly what you saw," Dean ordered.

Sam looked away, face pale. "Maddy was crying," he said. "There was a corridor, of a house I didn't recognize. Then there was a room, and it was there. Those eyes..." Sam shuddered. "It didn't move a muscle, Dean, but I could feel the power of it..." Sam looked away, a frown knitting his sweaty brow. "That must have been just what Mom felt. And Jess."

"Go on."

"Someone was on the ceiling," Sam continued roughly. "Maddy was screaming and reaching out. But there was nothing I could do." Sam pressed his lips together tightly and fought for control. "And then there was the blood and the fire," he finished rapidly, forcing the words out. "And it was over."

Dean couldn't help but fill in all the blanks his brother left in the story. It was made easier by the way Sam still avoided his gaze. Dean stared at him, slumped on the bed, then he looked down at his child, leaning trustingly against him. They were relying on him, both of them, looking to him for answers. Panic was rising up inside him. He didn't know what to do.

"It's too soon, Sam," he managed. "It's weeks until Maddy is six months old. And months until November. Why now?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. Dean... I'm scared."

"Join the club," Dean muttered. He looked around the room, feeling helpless and out of his depth. He wondered what Dad would make of this, what Dad would think of Sam having visions. His heart twisted in his chest. He wished that Dad was here. Dean's gaze fell on the journal, sitting next to his bag and a sudden memory flashed.

"Here," he said, handing Maddy back to Sam. "Dry her off and get her dressed."

"Dean?" Sam said, accepting the baby. "What is it?"

Dean picked up their father's journal and began leafing through it. "I just remembered something Dad told me, a long time ago."

Sam laid Maddy down on the bed and patted her dry, eyes darting back and forth from his task to his brother as Dean flipped through the yellowing pages. "Here," he said, laying the book down next to Maddy on the bed. He pointed to a rough map.

"What's that?"

"Sam? How sure are you that this thing is a demon?"

Sam slid a diaper under Maddy and deftly fastened it around her. "I'd bet my life on it."

Dean nodded towards the baby under Sam's gentle hands. "You're betting her life on it."

Sam's jaw tightened and he wrapped his hands around Maddy's waist, stroking her tummy with his thumbs. "I'm sure," he said.

Dean pointed at the crude map. "Dad drew this map maybe five years ago. It's a mountain in the Appalachians. A woman named Lydia Morgan lives there. He told me that if I needed to know anything about demons, that she was the person to go to."

Sam frowned. "Why did he tell you and not me?"

Dean picked the journal back up and stuffed it in his bag. "I don't think you two were talking at the time. Now come on, Sammy, I don't know about you, but I'm not gonna be sleeping much tonight. Finish dressing Maddy while I get us packed, and we'll get back on the road."

Sam just sat on the edge of the bed, gazing down at the the baby.

"Sammy?"

"It's soon, Dean," Sam said quietly. "Maybe only days away." He looked up, caught Dean's eyes. "We're not ready."

Somehow Sam saying the words screaming in his own mind helped Dean attain some measure of calm. "Just hurry, Sam."

666

They threw their gear in the car and Dean opened the back door and buckled the baby carrier into the back seat. Maddy was settled into the padded carrier, sucking her pacifier, her little hands flexing. One reached out and Dean let her grip his finger, feeling the soft squeeze. She looked so small, so vulnerable, blinking sleepily up at him. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him and his powerful love for her filled his heart.

It frightened him sometimes, how much she meant to him. In the whole world there was just Maddy and Sam. Losing his father had almost killed him, but if he should lose his daughter or his brother...

Sam was climbing into the passenger seat, but he stopped short when Dean tapped his shoulder.

"You wanna drive?" Dean asked. He unzipped his jacket, cuddled Maddy against him and zipped the old leather back up. Sam straightened, looking at him for long moments, then nodded, accepting the keys.

Dean climbed into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt, leaving one arm protectively wrapped around his daughter. Sam settled behind the wheel and gazed at him, eyes dropping to the fluff of blonde hair and the pink pacifier rocking rhythmically between Maddy's lips.

Then he started the car with a growl and they drove into the night.

666

"You think this is what Dad would have done?' Sam asked. "If he'd known for sure it was a demon? Gone to see this woman?"

"He said she was the best," Dean said quietly. Maddy was fast asleep against him, her soft cheek nuzzling into his chest. "The only thing that worries me is that he said she was old. I mean really old. I don't even know if she's still alive."

Sam shot him a glance. "Well, shouldn't we call her? Before we drive all the way to West Virginia, I mean."

"She doesn't have a phone."

"Dean it's 2005. Everybody has a phone."

Dean just shrugged. "Sam?" he said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Who was on the ceiling?"

Sam shot him a look, jaw twitching. "What?"

"Your vision. You said someone was on the ceiling. Who was it?"

Sam drew in a shaky breath, shooting him another dark-eyed glance and Dean nodded. He'd been pretty sure since he heard the story.

"Figures," Dean murmured. He patted Maddy's back gently through his jacket, feeling the warmth and life of her against his heart. "I guess I'm the closest thing she has to a mother now."

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said softly.

Dean mulled it over for a few minutes as the night whipped by them. "Jennifer knew what she was doing after all when she split," he said.

"Jennifer?" Sam shot him a curious glance. "Is that Maddy's mother? You never mentioned her name before."

Dean nodded. "I know. It's in the back of my notebook, Sam. Along with her phone number. The last number I had for her anyway."

"Dean?"

"And Jennifer's parents' name and address is in there as well," Dean went on. "They're nice enough people but, boy, did they hate me. So I wouldn't call them unless you were really desperate."

"Stop it, Dean," Sam said firmly.

Dean ignored him. "Maddy's birth certificate is in there," he continued. "And her immunization stuff. You should..."

"I said stop it!" Sam yelled, and Dean closed his mouth. "Just stop talking like you're gonna die, all right? We knew this was coming, and we're gonna deal with it."

"Believe me, Sam," Dean said sincerely. "I don't want to think about this any more than you do. But I'm a parent now. I can't just ignore the risks. I've got Maddy to think about."

Sam shook his head stubbornly. "All you need to think about is how we're gonna get through this," he said firmly. "I mean, I've seen this thing now. And we know it's a demon. That gives us a head start, right? There are things we can do to fight a demon, or at least ward one off."

Dean nodded, looking out into the night. "Yeah," he agreed.

"Yeah," Sam repeated shakily. "And even if this woman hasn't got the answer we're looking for, she's one of Dad's contacts. She's gotta know something or somebody."

Dean shot his brother a sympathetic look. He couldn't imagine how hard this must be for Sam right now. He'd already lost the woman he loved to this thing. This... demon. And now it was after his niece and his brother. The only family he had left.

"Sam," Dean said quietly.

Sam bit his lip and glanced at him.

"I know this is hard, man, but I need to ask you to make me a promise now."

"No, you don't," Sam returned in a low voice. "You don't have to ask, Dean. You know... if anything happened... You know, right? That I'll take care of Maddy."

Dean nodded, knowing, but glad all the same to hear it.

"I do know that," he said sincerely. "That's not the promise I'm asking for. I mean, if this thing comes. When it comes... You have to promise me that you'll be thinking of Maddy first. You won't try and help me."

"Dean," Sam said in disbelief.

"I mean it, Sam," Dean grated out. "I can take care of myself. Your job is to get Maddy out, to keep her safe. Like Dad and me did with you. Okay?"

Sam was silent for a long time, expressions crossing his face. Dean read them all and ached for his brother's pain. But he didn't back down. He needed the promise. Whatever came next, whatever they had to do to get through this, Dean needed this promise from Sam.

Finally his brother nodded jerkily. "Okay."

Continued in Part 6


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** _Endings & Beginnings Chapter 6 of 7_  
**Author:** Gillian Middleton  
**Characters:** _Sam & Dean_  
**Rating: **_G_**  
Total word count: **_5100_  
**Warning:** _A baby story. Angst.  
_**Summary:** _Alternate universe story - Dean & Sam search for help against the coming demon. _

**But All Endings Are Also Beginnings**

**Part Six**

**By **Gillian Middleton

"Lydia Morgan," Sam mused. "Morgan Fishing & Hunting Lodge. Is it just me, or are you getting that whole Walton family vibe here?" He indicated and turned into the gas station, then chuckled and pointed at the sign. "Morgan's Gas & Go. These guys have got a monopoly."

Dean climbed out of the car and stretched tired muscles, then shivered in the frigid air. He opened the door and unbuckled Maddy from her carrier, making sure her wooly hat was pulled down over her ears. "As long as they have a bathroom," he said wearily.

"Maddy's gonna need a car seat soon, she's getting too big for that carrier," Sam pointed out, lifting her from Dean's arms and sitting her up high against his shoulder. The baby clutched at his hair with mittened hands, and Sam gathered her little blanket around her more securely.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, pushing his fears for the future away. They'd driven through the night and the better part of that day, and every inch of the way Dean was aware of the minutes and the hours ticking away like a clock in his head. The temperature had dropped the further south they traveled, and now the radio was warning of a January storm to rival the Blizzard of '96. Dean had struggled to keep Maddy warm against him in the front seat, before finally giving in and tucking her into her carrier around dawn, sitting back in there with her to feed and change her while Sam drove. Even now, safe as she was in Sam's arms, it was difficult not to be next to her, one hand touching her, keeping her safe.

Dean filled up the tank and then Sam led the way into the store and headed to the counter. The interior of the store was toasty warm and Dean felt his nose tingle as his flesh warmed rapidly. His heart seemed to be beating a mile a minute in his chest. This was where they found out if they'd just driven hundreds of miles for nothing.

"Hi," Sam said, giving one of his dimpled smiles to the young man behind the counter. The guy lowered his hotrod magazine.

"Just the gas?"

"Thanks." Sam handed over the cash. "Uh, we're looking for a Lydia Morgan, do you know her?"

The young man smiled. "You'll have to be a bit more particular than that. We've got three Lydia Morgan's around here now, and two who used to be Morgan before they got married."

"This one would be quite elderly," Dean said. "Like in her eighties?"

"Oh, Mamaw Morgan?" the young man said. "You're on the right road anyways."

"You mean she's still alive?" Dean asked, allowing himself a glimmer of hope.

"Mamaw? Hell, they'll have to kill her with an axe. Her mother lived to be a hundred and three, and they say her grandmother was older then that when she passed on. Mamaw ain't going anywhere any time soon."

Sam shot Dean a hopeful glance. "I don't suppose you have a map of the mountain?"

"Sure." The man pulled out a folded brochure and opened it up. "The lodge is real popular this time of the year, especially now they have a ski board run, so the road's been plowed this morning." He traced a finger along the map, then peered out through the frosty window at the car. "Sweet ride. But you boys are gonna need snow chains if you want to drive up to Mamaw's. It's not so bad now, but the forecast is predicting a heavy fall by tonight." He looked from Sam to Dean. "We rent 'em out here, if you need 'em."

888

Dean took over the wheel for the slow drive up the mountain, and without a word Sam climbed into the backseat next to Maddy. Dean nodded at him gratefully. Despite their worry and Sam's grief, the last few months had been the best Dean could remember in years. Dean could admit now how much he'd missed Sam while they'd been apart. It didn't matter who else he'd been with, what he'd done to fill the empty days, it had been as lonely as hell without him. Even Maddy, who'd brought him back to life, hadn't been able to change that.

Sam loved Maddy too, and Dean took comfort in that. Once Jennifer had walked out Dean had had Maddy to himself, and preferred it that way. He'd been taking care of her by himself pretty much since she'd been born anyway. But now he was sharing her with Sam, and it surprised him how easy it had been, how quickly Sam had taken to it.

It was even easier for Dean, of course. It wasn't that long ago he'd been taking care of Sammy. Maddy was smaller, and a girl, but it wasn't that different. Food goes in one end, comes out the other. Keep all the bits in between clean and warm. It was common sense mostly.

"The storm's getting worse," Sam said uneasily. Dean glanced at him in the mirror, saw him gazing worriedly out into the snowy trees. "I hope this woman can help us, because I don't think we're gonna be driving back down this mountain any time soon."

It took half an hour to climb the winding road, but the mail box was just where the guy at the gas station had indicated, and Dean turned down the narrow track and pulled up carefully in front of the house.

It actually looked more like a log cabin, but huge and sprawling, with a wide deck on the front. They were peering through the windows at the house when the front door opened and a bulky figure emerged, a coat around her shoulders and a bright scarf over her head and knotted beneath her chin.

"Well, don't just sit there!" she called, flapping her arms. "Come on in out of the cold!"

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam and pushed open the door, huddling into his layers of clothes. Sam handed him Maddy and Dean pulled the blanket up over her head and tucked her into the crook of his shoulder.

"Get that young'en in out of the weather, it's snowin' like a big dog out here," the woman scolded, holding a hand out in welcome as Dean climbed the wooden stairs. "It's nice and warm in Mamaw's kitchen, you boys come on in."

Dean and Sam stamped their feet on the mat inside the door, while the old lady fastened it closed behind them. She pulled off the woolen scarf wrapped around her head and surveyed them with bright eyes.

"The Winchester boys, ain't it?"

Sam gaped and the little old lady chuckled. Her hair was as white as the snow she brushed off her shoulders, and her skin was tanned and lined. She looked ancient, but there was still a wiry strength in her hands as she shrugged off her coat and hung it on a hook by the door.

"You're a psychic?" Dean asked, too tired and strung out to think of a more polite way too ask.

The old lady laughed again. "Lord love you, no. That's a burden I'd never want."

Sam quirked a rueful smile.

"Now you let me take that young'en," she said, and Dean looked over at Sam again, who shrugged.

"Don't you worry," the old lady said. "I'll take good care of her while you boys take those jackets off. Don't want the damp gettin' into your bones, do you?"

Dean reluctantly handed Maddy over, watching closely as Mamaw pulled the blanket back and exposed Maddy's face. The baby rubbed her eyes and wriggled, unhappy with the close swaddling in the warm cabin. "Oh, look at them little apple cheeks," Mamaw crooned. She pulled the blanket away and slipped off Maddy's woolly hat, ruffling her blonde hair. "You must be ready to wriggle those toes of yours, after that long drive, yes?" Mamaw cooed. "Yes?"

Dean hung his jacket on a peg next to Sam's and followed Mamaw into her kitchen. Pots simmered on a huge stove that radiated warmth through the room. Dean felt the tense set of his shoulders relax a little in the cozy atmosphere.

"Ma'am?" Sam said politely. "How did you know we were coming?"

"Well, that's no trick," Mamaw said, settling back into a chair at the table, Maddy on her ample lap. "Most everyone on this mountain is kin to old Mamaw. I had a dozen calls the minute your wheels set on my road."

"But how did you know our name?" Dean asked, sitting down at the well-scrubbed old table. Sam sat next to him and held his hands out to the warmth of the stove. His knuckles locked chafed and raw from the cold weather.

"That was the clever part," Mamaw said complacently. "My great grandson, down at the gas station? He called and told me you was coming, raving about that shiny car of yours. Course I remembered right off that same car sitting in my drive, oh, must be twenty years ago now." Mamaw laid a kiss on Maddy's soft curls and the baby craned her neck and smiled happily up at her. "I guessed you were John Winchester's boys, and I was right, wasn't I?" Her birdlike eyes sparkled and Sam smiled at her.

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, then frowned. "I thought you didn't have a phone?"

Mamaw chuckled. "It's 2005, son. Everybody has a phone."

Sam smirked at Dean and Mamaw wrinkled her nose. "Although, come to think of it, I didn't have one back when your daddy came calling. I was a lot younger then. My grandchildren fuss over me something terrible now." She smiled, seeming quite pleased with the idea. Then she sobered a little. "I heared your daddy passed on. I was right sorry about it. He was a good man."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam said sadly.

"Now," Mamaw said, a little more briskly. "None of that ma'am stuff! You call me Mamaw, same as everybody else. That means Granny to you outsiders."

"I'm Sam," Sam said. "That's my brother Dean. And that's Dean's daughter, Maddy."

"She's sure got her daddy's eyes." Mamaw nodded. "And her granddaddy's dimple too, not that I got to see it much." Mamaw nodded to the cups and saucers laid out on the table. "There's hot tea in the pot, it's getting stewed just sitting there. Pour us a cup, will you, Sam?"

Sam obliged, pouring steaming tea into the rose-patterned cups. Dean watched as Maddy sat contentedly on the old lady's lap, long little fingers fiddling with her row of woven bangles. He'd never seen his daughter take to anyone as quickly as she had to Mamaw Morgan. Except for her Uncle Sammy.

"Now what brings you boys up my mountain in this terrible weather?" Mamaw said, nodding thanks when Sam laid her tea cup next to her.

"If you knew our dad, then you know why," Dean said.

Mamaw nodded. "It's a demon then," she said shrewdly, and Dean couldn't help huffing a small chuckle. This little white haired old lady in her apron smock with bright daisies stitched on it, sitting in her kitchen with a cup of tea and a baby on her lap. Talking so matter-of-factly about demons.

Mamaw's eyes twinkled. "I know what you're thinking," she accused cheerfully. "Old Mamaw looks like she's fit for no more'n bakin' biscuits and puttin' up preserves, right?"

"No, ma'am," Dean said respectfully. "I know better than to judge a book by its cover." He looked around the large room, at the hand painted tiles and the stiff gingham curtains. "You just don't look like any demon hunter I've ever met."

"Lord love you," Mamaw chuckled. "I don't hunts 'em, son. I just sends 'em back to hell where they belong." She smiled at him kindly. "Now, tell me about this demon. You boys been huntin' all your life, this must be a bad'un if you need old Mamaw's help?"

"It's not just any demon," Sam said. "It's the demon that killed our mother twenty-two years ago. And my girlfriend two months ago."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Mamaw said gently. "But how do you know it's a demon, Sam? Your dad sure didn't when he come here all them years ago."

Sam took a deep breath and launched into his story. Mamaw listened carefully, nodding her snowy white head and patting Maddy gently. When Sam was done she looked at him closely, her curious, birdlike eyes bright.

"You never had dreams like that afore, Sam?"

Sam shook his head and Mamaw nodded again, face thoughtful. "When your daddy come to me twenty year ago, he asked me then if'n I thought it coulda been a demon that come that night."

Sam leaned forward in his chair. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him I didn't know." Mamaw lifted one hand in a helpless gesture. "I told him I'd never heared anythin' like it afore. But now..." She heaved herself to her feet and held Maddy out to Dean.

"Take your girl, Dean. I want you to see something."

Dean accepted Maddy back into his arms and followed the old lady out of the room and into a long dim hall. Sam's footsteps faltered and Dean looked back over his shoulder curiously. Sam was looking around the hall, from the old black & white photographs on the walls to the vase of dried flowers on the small hall table.

"I keep this room redd up for visitors," Mamaw said, pushing open a door. Dean caught only a glimpse of the room's interior before Sam was catching his arm with a hand like a claw.

"This is it," Sam said numbly and Dean looked from his brother's shocked face to Mamaw's nodding head. "This is the room from my vision."

"I thought it might be," she said.

And inside Dean's head the clock ticked louder.

888

Mamaw bustled around the stove, stirring a pot and adding a pinch of salt.

Sam sat back at the table, his face distracted.

"Give the baby to Sam, Dean," Mamaw ordered briskly. "He looks like he needs somethin' to hold onto."

Dean eased Maddy into the crook of his arm and Sam blinked up at him, his face still dazed and pale. And then he took Maddy and sat her on his lap, her fair curls resting against his chest. "It's okay, Sam," Dean said quietly. "We knew it was coming, right?"

"Lay those bowls on the table, son," Mamaw ordered, nodding to a huge old dresser bristling with china. Dean laid out four bowls and took his own seat at the table as Mamaw placed a steaming pan on an old iron trivet and lifted the lid. "Mamaw's Golden Apple Oatmeal," she said, picking up bowls and ladling out heaped helpings. "Perfect for this weather. It's nice and sweet and good for shock too. You boys look like your eyes are gonna swaller your faces."

Dean obediently picked up a spoon, but he couldn't bring himself to eat. Outside the snow fell thickly, cutting off their only means of escape, even if they'd been inclined to run. Dean's instinct was to pack his family back in the car and leave this place behind them. He caught Sam's eyes and saw the same look there, followed by regretful resignation. Running wouldn't solve anything. They'd been running their whole lives and this thing had still found them when they least expected it.

Mamaw handed Sam a spoon and nodded towards the baby on his lap. "Why don't you see if Maddy wants some, Sam," she said gently. "Blow on it first, mind, don't want to burn her."

Dean watched as Sam scooped up a spoonful of the warm oatmeal and blew on it gently. His brother's face grew less distracted as Maddy's little tongue came out and she smacked her lips thoughtfully around the warm treat. Sam even smiled a little as Maddy accepted a morsel from the end of the spoon and gummed it happily. Dean met Mamaw's eyes gratefully, acknowledging the clever distraction.

Sam really did look like he was suffering from shock, his skin was pale and his eyes looked huge and glazed. Dean wondered if some part of Sam had doubted this second vision. Had he half-wondered, half-hoped he was wrong this time? Seeing the very site of his dream must have dashed that possibility once and for all.

Dean tried to hold onto his own hope.

"You boys have sure brought a heap o' trouble to my doorstep," Mamaw said, spooning up her own oatmeal and chewing appreciatively.

"I'm sorry," Dean said. "We didn't have anywhere else to-"

"Don't you fret about it," she interrupted, waving her hand airily. "My family, we've had the knowin' of demons and the like for five generations, and that's just about as far back as anyone can count. It's a gift passed down through the family, although, truth to tell, there's some as calls it a curse." She nodded at Sam perceptively. "Reckon you've learnt that for yourself, son. Hm?"

Sam nodded, scraping the spoon around Maddy's mouth to collect stray oatmeal. "It seemed as if it was," he admitted. "But then I thought that if we could change things... If we could stop it from happening then maybe it was a gift after all." He shook his head. "But now I don't know. If I hadn't had the vision, we wouldn't be here. And here is where it's coming."

"And is it comin' _because_ you came here?" Mamaw seemed to finish his thought, and Sam stared at her blankly for a moment, and then nodded. "Put it from your mind, son. This thing was gunnin' for your family long before you had these visions. Who knows why demons do what they do? For all I knows about 'em, and I knows a lot, I don't know that."

"Then you can help us?" Dean asked, searching her lined old face.

"I don't have much choice," she returned. "I've faced demons, son. I can face any demon there is. But the price of that is _havin_' to face any demon there is. It might be a gift, but it don't come for free. There's always a price, and that's the one we pay."

Dean absorbed this, stirring his spoon through his untouched oatmeal, watching the steam rise and curl over the china bowl. "Can you kill it?"

Mamaw shook her head. "No. This isn't one of them shades of a demon, them puffs of smoke and darkness what pour into a man and dance him around like a puppet. This is a demon walking the earth his own self, powerful and full of evil. There's ways of killing such things, so I've heared. But I don't have the knowin' of it."

Dean closed his eyes, then opened them again as Mamaw reached out and slapped the back of his hand.

"Take that tragic look offa your face," she ordered. "I can't kill it, but I can surely send it back to hell. And that's a firm promise."

Sam looked hopeful. "You can exorcise it?"

Mamaw nodded, face creasing in a broad smile. "Lord love you, son. That's what I do. I started learning the rites at my Meemaw's knee, when I wasn't much bigger'n that young'en you're holdin' there. I know a rite for every day of the year, and I've no doubt, with the good Lord's help, I'll know the one that'll work on your demon the minute I sets eyes on it."

The certainty in her sweet old voice was so strong that Dean felt hope stir in his own breast.

"You sound very sure," he said.

Mamaw nodded. "Pride is a sin," she confided, eyes twinkling. "But I always thought false modesty was a darn fool game to play as well. Don't you worry, boys, I can send it back to hell where it belongs, that ain't what worries me."

"What does?" Sam asked.

"Summat this powerful," Mamaw said slowly. "It ain't gonna stay where I send it. The damn thing'll claw its way back, I guarantee. I'm not solvin' your problem, boys, so much as givin' you a bit of breathin' time."

"Time to find a way to kill it," Dean said, mind racing. "How much time?"

Mamaw shrugged expressively. "I don't know. Could be five years. Could be twenty. I just don't know. Mebbe I can tell you more when I've faced it. And that brings me to my biggest concern." She scraped the last of her oatmeal from her bowl and pushed it away.

"What concern?"

"Well, a body that's possessed, there's no problem cornering it, trapping it in place with the right words or symbols. Even holy water stops the poor, pathetic creatures in their tracks. But a really and truly demon... It ain't just gonna lie there and wait politely while I speak the words at it."

Dean looked at Maddy sitting happily on Sam's lap. She'd given up on the oatmeal and Sam had handed her the spoon, which she was gumming busily. It was terrifying to think what a demon might do to something so small and fragile, especially one enraged by an exorcism.

"What do we do?" Dean asked numbly.

Mamaw shrugged again. "I'm gonna have to think on that," she admitted. "I ain't never faced one so powerful afore, and especially not right here in my own home." She rubbed at her chin for a moment or two, then glanced at their untouched bowls and frowned. "You boys need to eat," she chided. "And then get some rest. You'll be no good to me or your girl there if you collapse."

"I don't think I can go into that room," Sam admitted and Mamaw nodded her understanding.

"Don't worry, son. I'll redd up my room for you. We've got hours till sunset, and you boys look like you haven't had a proper sleep in a month of Sundays."

"Feels like it too," Sam admitted, then took up a scoop of oatmeal and tasted it. A surprised smile flashed across his face. "This is good," he said.

Mamaw stood up and tapped his arm smartly. "Don't sound so surprised. Dean, you finish that bowl up as well, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Dean tried a spoonful and thought it probably would taste pretty good, if it weren't for the taste of ashes in his mouth.

888

Dean lay Maddy down in the center of the bed and laid a folded cloth on her chest to prop her bottle on. Eager little hands caught the sides of the bottle as Dean pressed the teat to her lips, and she half closed her eyes blissfully as she suckled.

"She's grown so much just in the last few months," Sam said wistfully, settling down on his side next to her.

Dean lay down on her other side, sighing a little as he stretched out on the warm comforter. "You should have seen me with her the first time I picked her up. I was scared to touch her, she was so small."

"Yeah?" Sam laid his hand gently on Maddy's round little belly, long fingers rising and falling with her breathing. Dean couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"You would have been able to pick her up with one hand," he mused.

Sam smiled, stroking Maddy's tummy as she contentedly fed. "Hey, Dean? Do you think she has Dad's dimple?"

Dean studied the way Sammy's own dimple creased in and out when he smiled. "Yeah, I see Dad in her sometimes. Mom too. And you, Sammy."

Sam looked down at Maddy's face, as if looking for himself in her.

"I didn't really think about that for a long time," Dean admitted. "That she was a part of all of us, her whole family. Not even after she was born."

"What changed?" Sam murmured.

Dean looked away from his brother's curious eyes, not really wanting to look back at the man he'd been back then. "I don't know," he admitted. "There wasn't this one moment of revelation or anything. Just taking care of her every day. The way she needed me so much. I guess I just realized... she was mine. I mean, I made this person, how weird is that? Mom and Dad's granddaughter, your niece. My daughter."

"You're lucky," Sam said, and it might have sounded trite if anyone else had said it. But Sam didn't say things he didn't mean, it was one of the things you had to love about the man. When it came to his family, he didn't hide anything.

"Yeah," Dean acknowledged, finally. "I am. I have been."

Time was ticking away again, and he was suddenly aware of all the things he hadn't said yet, the kinds of things you always mean to say and never quite get out. How much he'd missed his brother when they were apart. How good it had been to be side by side with him through this. How sorry he was about Jessica.

Words built up within him, but, as usual, he couldn't get them out. Instead he lifted his hand and laid it on Sam's where it rested on Maddy. Sam's eyes met his and they said he understood, just as he and Sam had always understood one another, down deep where it counted. The last three Winchesters lay there, connected, as the snow piled up outside the windows and the remains of the day drifted away.

888

When Dean remembered it later the memory was clear but disjointed. Fragments of recollection interspersed with pain.

The first thing he felt was Sammy's hand snatched out from under his own, and he opened his eyes to see his brother slam against the wall, and slump, head at an angle. The next thing he felt was himself flying backwards, hitting the wall hard, breath forced from his body.

His clearest memory was of those eyes, just as Sam had described them, yellow-green, vile, pure evil gazing coolly at him. The force pinning Dean to the wall was like a giant hand, mashing him backwards, and he was gasping for breath against its weight. The room seemed to swing wildly, and with horror Dean realised he was being forced up the wall, every bump and ridge in the wood grazing against his skin as the floor grew further away. Then he was looking down on the bed and, for the first time, Dean was aware of sound in the room.

Maddy was crying. His daughter was screaming, and now Dean was above the bed and he could see her alone in the center of the covers, legs kicking angrily, little arms outstretched. Dean tried to call her name, every instinct he possessed telling him to reach for her, but he couldn't move his arms. He could feel himself growing faint from lack of oxygen and Maddy's face swum out of focus as tears filled his eyes. Dean understood that he was dying, just as his mother had died, pinned, helpless, a figure of horror in a rictus of pain against the ceiling.

As life flickered out of him his last prayer was that Maddy wouldn't remember this.

And then a breath of air seemed to flood him, a white light beat against his eyelids, and the sound of Latin being chanted filled his ears. Dean opened his eyes to the sight of his brother crawling across the bed, picking Maddy up, pressing her against him. Hope filled him for Maddy's sake, because Sam was there, and Sam would carry her to safety as Dean had once carried him, closing a circle, fulfilling some twisted form of destiny. There was a kind of peace in that thought, and, as the sound of Latin filled his ears Dean looked down as Sam looked up, wishing he could move against the pressure, wishing he could make his brother understand that it was all right, that Dean could go on to Dad, to Mom. So long as he knew the two people he loved with all his heart were safe and together.

But Sam did not gaze up at him in horror for more than a moment. Sam was clambering to his feet, stretching out one arm, Maddy under his other arm like a rag doll, her shrieks vying with that chanting and the wind rushing through Dean's ears.

There was blood on Sam's face, and Dean understood that it was _his_ blood, dripping down onto his brother's skin. He wanted to tell Sam to run, to take Maddy out of here, to get to safety. But he still had no voice and Sam did not falter. His big hand wrapped around Dean's arm and he was pulling, hanging from Dean, his face set with grim determination. For a moment it seemed hopeless, futile, foolish even. And then, amazingly, Dean felt his arm released from the pressure, and his shoulder, screaming in protest, was dragged away from the wall. Sam was hanging on for grim death, Maddy under his arm, his other hand like a claw on Dean's arm as he used his own weight to try to drag Dean down off the ceiling to the bed below.

From the corner of Dean's eye he could see a brilliant orange tongue of flame billowing around him and pain seared through his back. The edges of his vision grew dark, and then the world swung wildly again as the pressure against him finally vanished and Sam's weight pulled him down, bouncing against tangled limbs and the mattress below.

Something was screaming, and it wasn't him, Dean understood it wasn't anything remotely human. He forced his eyes open against the pain of Sam's hand beating out the flames on his back and that last moment became fixed in his mind, the horror of it eclipsing all that had come before. The demon was only feet away from them, writhing in fire, blackened and red, teeth, horns, flared yellow eyes. The Latin grew louder then stopped, there was a moment of stillness broken by his own harsh breaths, by Maddy's cries, by Sam's frantic calling of his name.

Then the demon lifted a scaly arm, pointed two fingers over Dean's shoulder.

"This is not over," it croaked.

"Gloria Patris!" someone cried, and with an inrush of sound and light and air... the demon was gone.

Dean lost consciousness at last.

Continued in Part Seven


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** _Endings & Beginnings Chapter 7 of 7_  
**Author:** Gillian Middleton  
**Characters:** _Sam & Dean_  
**Rating: **_G_**  
Total word count: **_6100_  
**Warning:** _A baby story. Angst.  
_**Summary:** _Alternate universe story - Dean & Sam search for help against the coming demon.  
_**Author's note:** _Parts 1-4 were from Sam's point of view and parts 5-6 were from Dean's. In this final part I alternate viewpoints. _

**But All Endings Are Also Beginnings**

**Part Seven**

**By **Gillian Middleton

"Sam! Don't you freeze up on me now, son, I need you. Dean needs you."

Sam came back to himself, coughing a little against the smoke in the room. He automatically cuddled Maddy closer, patting her back to soothe her. Above him the ceiling was crackled and black, but the bright orange tongue of flame was gone. Dean was laying across his legs, head lolling over the side of the bed, blood seeping into the mattress and through Sam's jeans. Dean's back...

Sam choked on a sob, carefully pulling his legs out from underneath his brother and groping for a pulse with his free hand.

"Please, god," Sam muttered, then closed his eyes on a wave of relief as the thready pulse fluttered under his fingers. "He's alive."

"Sam?" Mamaw's hands took Dean's shoulder and she tried to turn him on his side. "Help me, son, I need to see that belly wound."

Head spinning, shock slowing his limbs, Sam fumbled to help her. Maddy's screams had died to miserable sobs but he could do no more than hold her close with one arm as he gripped Dean's shoulder and turned him to his side. The sleeves of Dean's t-shirt hung from his shoulders, blackened edges dangling. The fabric was burnt away and the skin of Dean's back was scorched and swollen.

Mamaw had a towel in her hand and she pressed it against Dean's stomach, then pulled it away to peer at the wound.

"How is it?" Sam demanded. "Mamaw?"

"It's deep," Mamaw said, pressing the towel back again. "But it's not mortal. Sam?" she said firmly, meeting his eyes. "It's not mortal."

The calm certainty in her eyes went a long way to calming Sam's own panic and he took a deep breath. "What do you want me to do?"

"You need to go out and get some snow, fill a pan from the kitchen. We've got to cool that burn down and we can't move him into the shower with this belly wound."

Sam stood on shaking legs, pressing a kiss to Maddy's head. The last thing he wanted to do was put her down, but she was as safe as he could make her now, it was Dean who needed his help. Hardening his heart to her plaintive sobs, he laid her down on the bed. "Shh, baby," he soothed. "I'll be right back."

The cold outside the kitchen door hit him like a blast and Sam felt it waking him out of his shocked stupor, sharpening his mind. He carried the pan back through the kitchen, grabbing more towels from the cupboard in the hall on his way.

"My medicine bag," Mamaw said, taking the pan off him. "It's in the parlor behind my rocker. Go fetch it."

Sam spared a quick glance at Maddy who was still sobbing, and Dean, who still lay so still he barely appeared to be breathing. He ran to obey.

When he came back Mamaw was smoothing handfuls of snow onto Dean's scorched skin, and wordlessly Sam took over, hardly feeling the tears well in his eyes and roll down his cheeks as he worked. He could feel the heat radiating from the terrible burns, but he could also see that Dean's skin hadn't blistered in more the a few places, and that layers of skin hadn't burned away. The skin under the cooling snow was swollen and terribly wounded. But it was alive.

"Sam?" Mamaw said gently and Sam looked up at her, eyes still blurred with tears. "The bleeding has stopped. I'm gonna need to sew up this wound, but I need your help."

Sam nodded and wiped at his eyes. "I'll do it," he said, but Mamaw shook her head.

"Not with that hand," she pointed out, and Sam frowned and looked down. His left hand was red and blistered and he vaguely remembered beating out the flames on Dean's back.

"I'm right handed," he told her. "I can do it." He quirked a humorless smile. "It's not the first time I've sewn him up."

Mamaw studied his determined face and then nodded. "Let me bandage that hand of yours first, then I'll give Dean a shot of morphine before we close up that wound."

Sam sat by the bed, patting Maddy comfortingly with his right hand while Mamaw smoothed ointment on his left and bound it up. Then he helped her straighten Dean up on the bed, laying towels over the blood stains and propping his brother carefully so that he could get to the wound to stitch it up, but not put pressure on his back. Finally he lifted Maddy and laid her down against her father's chest. The baby's sobs tapered off and she cuddled against Dean, her tear-damp cheek nuzzling against his breast. The cessation of her weak cries was an enormous relief and Sam felt himself steady even further.

It was time to sew his brother up.

888

Pain. Throbbing pain, radiating from his back, spiking across his belly. It burned, and Dean dimly remembered burning, and wondered if he was dead.

If this was dead, it totally sucked.

"Ow," he said thickly.

"Dean?" Sam's voice sounded thick too, clogged with tears and Dean cracked his eyelids and Sam's face swam into focus. Yeah, he'd been crying all right, his eyes were red and swollen, his skin was blotched and puffy.

_"You look like shit,"_ was what Dean wanted to say.

"Ow," he managed.

"He's in pain," Sam said.

"Morphine's wearing off. I'll give him another shot."

"Sam?" Dean said, trying to put a face to that drawling voice. Why was everything swimming like this, why was his brain so fuzzy?

"I'm here, Dean," Sam said. "Mamaw, please hurry."

Mamaw Morgan. The mountain. _The demon._

Dean's eyes flew open. "Maddy!" he said, trying to lift his head. Agony lanced through him and he gasped, tears springing to his eyes.

"Stay still, Dean," Sam said soothingly. A hand touched his chin, angled his head. "She's right here next to you."

Tension left him in a rush. Maddy was nestled close to his bare chest, a tiny quilt tucked around her, swollen eyes closed.

"She's been crying," Dean said, his momentary burst of energy and pain draining him. His hand felt heavy when he lifted it and laid it over his daughter's vulnerable little body.

"She wouldn't stop crying until we laid her down next to you," Sam said, and a hand stroked Dean's brow, cool against the warmth of his skin.

"Shot's ready," Mamaw said, and Dean didn't feel the pinprick but he did feel the utter bliss as the pain released him from its claws.

888

Sam was snoring and Dean snuffled awake, ready to lean over and jab him in the side. It never failed. _"Roll over, Sam,"_ he'd say, and after all these years he had his brother so well trained that Sam wouldn't even wake up, he'd just snort and roll over, burying his face in the pillow.

Dean barely moved before the pain hit him, and this time it cleared his mind instead of fogging it. He opened his eyes and found himself inches away from Sam, who was laying on his back, snoring through his nose. Despite the pain and the horrifying memories, Dean actually found himself smiling at the sight.

He didn't worry about Maddy this time, over the rumble of Sam's snores he could hear Mamaw crooning and Maddy's delighted squeals of laughter. Dean closed his eyes at the sound of her chuckles. He could barely believe it, even now. Sam was next to him, Maddy was safe. And he was alive, although right now, parts of him wished they weren't.

With a cautious roll of his head he glanced up at the ceiling above him.

"You're in my spare room, Dean," Mamaw said. "Me and Sam shifted you in here after we sewed you up." Dean looked past his brother's nose and focused on the old lady. Maddy was perched on her arm, big eyes blinking and focusing on him. His little girl smiled and held out her arms, cooing happily at him.

"No, sweetheart," Mamaw said, patting her back. "Daddy ain't up to a cuddle right now."

Sam blinked and snorted awake, glancing from Mamaw to Dean. "How you feeling?" he asked, yawning widely.

"You tell me," Dean said, testing the rest of his body for the first time. His toes wiggled, his legs felt fine. He didn't want to shift too much, aware of that pain ready to blossom to life on his back. There was a dull ache across his belly and he remembered his blood on Sam's face.

"The burns aren't as bad as they could have been," Sam said, pulling his long legs up and sitting cross legged on the bed. Dean envied him his easy movement, then noticed the white bandage on his left hand. A dim memory of Sam beating out the flames on his back came back to him.

"How about your hand?"

Sam looked down at his bandaged hand and shrugged. "Like I said. It could have been worse."

Mamaw sat down next to the bed on a wooden chair, Maddy sitting on her lap. "Burns are painful," she said. "No doubt about that. But it was that gash across your belly that had us the most worried. Bled like a stuck pig."

Dean gingerly explored the tight wrapping of bandages across his middle.

"It wasn't as deep as it looked," Sam said hoarsely. "It kind of... closed up. After... After the demon was exorcised."

"Fire kind of went out too," Mamaw added. "Just as well, or we'd be sittin' out in the snow right now."

Dean caught Sam's eyes. "Is it really gone?"

Sam nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an reassuring smile. "It really is."

Dean closed his eyes again, feeling the drag of exhaustion in his limbs. "It's gone," he repeated, trying to make himself believe it.

888

Sam spooned mashed apple into Maddy's mouth, unable to help a smile at the eager way she swallowed it down and parted her lips for more.

"Is that good?" he asked her, and she reached for the spoon with a wavering hand. Mamaw was resting her eyes in the parlor, which Sam took to mean that the old lady was grabbing some well deserved rest. It was morning outside and the blizzard was gone, leaving mounds of snow piled up against the house. The wood stove radiated heat and Sam blinked against the exhaustion settling in his limbs.

It was hard to believe that only a couple of days had passed since they arrived here. That only a few days ago the nightmare had still been ahead of him, and, frightening as it all seemed, he could look over and see the calm strength in his brother's eyes whenever he needed to.

Now, every time Sam closed his eyes all he could see was Dean pressed against the ceiling, his face blue from lack of oxygen, his eyes wide with horror and disbelief.

Maddy slapped at the spoon again, this time knocking it from Sam's hand and onto the floor.

"Dadadada!" she objected, opening and closing her mouth like a baby bird.

"Sorry, Maddy," Sam said, fetching a clean spoon. "Am I falling down on the job?" He concentrated on feeding her the rest of the bowl, then warmed her a half a bottle of milk and held her in the crook of his arm to feed her. She'd recovered better than any of them, waking against her father and patting his bare skin with her soft little hand as if trying to wake him up as well. Sam had checked her over thoroughly, worried that she might have been bruised when they had landed in a tangle on the bed. But she was unmarked, her wide hazel-green eyes merely curious as Sam smoothed his hands over her plump little limbs, then held her close and kissed her fair curls gratefully.

He couldn't have faced Dean if she'd been hurt. How was he going to face him anyway, when he'd let him down so badly? Dean had asked one thing of him, and one thing only. Get Maddy to safety.

And Sam had done the opposite.

The back door opened with a flurry of snow and Sam jumped to his feet, hand pulling the gun from the waistband of his jeans and pointing it at the newcomer.

"Easy, son," a gruff voice said, and Sam relaxed his stance as the man unwound a scarf from his neck and pulled a black knitted cap off. "That's a cold welcome for a man who's slogged all the way here in the snow to check on his mama."

The newcomer was about sixty, with grizzled brown hair and beard. There was no mistake who's kin he was, he had Mamaw's dark, birdlike eyes and that habit of tilting his head to one side.

"Sorry," Sam said, sliding the safety on with his thumb and pushing the weapon back in his waistband. "I'm still a little spooked." Maddy was protesting the loss of her bottle and Sam picked it up and pressed the teat back to her lips.

"I'm Trace Morgan." Trace held out a hand and Sam shook it. "You must be one of the Winchesters, Ma told me before the phones went down that you'd arrived."

"I'm Sam Winchester."

"Pleased to meet you." Trace stamped the snow off his boots and hung his coat by the door. "Ma said you was looking for help with a demon? Mean sonuva bitch from the sound of it."

Sam nodded wearily. "It was," he confirmed, and Trace stopped in his tracks and stared at him. "It came night before last," Sam told him, watching alarm flare in the man's eyes. "Your mother's fine, she's napping in the parlor. She saved our lives," he finished.

Trace put down the coffee pot he'd been lifting and hurried out of the room. Sam followed him down the hall and stood for a moment in the doorway as the big man knelt by his mother's rocking chair. The old lady opened her eyes and blinked at him sleepily.

"Is the blizzard over?" she yawned.

Her son nodded his head, then lifted her out of the rocker and hugged her fiercely.

Feeling like an intruder, Sam made his way back to the kitchen and sat at the old wooden table that was scarred from years of family use. There was a dull ache in his chest that he recognized of old. He'd felt it now and then, since he left home, since his father died. That feeling of being on the outside looking in. Of being separated from his family. Maddy wriggled in his arms and smiled up at him, and the ache faded a bit. Sam wasn't alone. Maddy and Dean were his family, and they were both here with him.

There was still a pang of guilt in his heart though. He'd broken his promise to Dean. It had all turned out okay, but it didn't change what he'd done.

888

Next time Dean woke up he was alone, and he again tested his body, feeling the edges of the morphine dulling the roar of pain. Setting his jaw in determination, Dean pushed down against the mattress and forced himself into a sitting position. The skin on his back stretched and he stifled a groan, drawing his legs up and leaning forward as the wave of agony passed. After a few moments he inched gingerly to the side of the bed and slid his legs over. Finally he stopped, panting with pain, sweat on his brow and running down into his eyes.

"Dean!" Sam pushed open the door and hurried to the bed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I need to pee," Dean said grumpily. Sam leaned under the bed and produced a porcelain pot, decorated with a spray of pink roses. Dean looked at it. Sam looked at it.

"Christ," Dean muttered.

When he'd taken care of business Sam carried the pot out and Dean slumped, wanting to lay back down but too exhausted to try. A moment later Sam was back, and without a word he wrapped his hands around Dean's upper arms and lowered him back onto his side.

"Is your hand okay?" Dean mumbled, feeling the pain in his back subside a little.

Sam flexed it under the bandages and sat down on the floor by the side of the bed, in the line of Dean's sight. "It's fine. You need another shot yet?"

"I don't want any more morphine. We've got some pain pills in the kit, haven't we?"

Sam nodded. "You sure? That's about twenty percent of your body burnt back there, man. It's gonna hurt like hell for a while."

"I want to keep a clear head," Dean returned. "Besides, last thing we need is me getting hooked on happy juice." Dean shifted a little on the mattress and rubbed his face. "How's Maddy?"

"She's just fine," Sam assured him, then he bit at the corner of his lip. "Listen, Dean," he began slowly. "I'm sorry."

Dean studied his guilty face. "Don't," he ordered.

"I broke my promise," Sam said doggedly. "I promised to get Maddy away and I didn't."

"Forget it, Sam," Dean said firmly. "It was a stupid promise and I never should have asked you to make it."

"I meant to keep it," Sam said. "I did, Dean. But when I looked up..." He turned his head away, the memory of that horror still fresh on his face. "When I saw you up there. Like Jessica..." He looked back at Dean, eyes damp. "I just couldn't leave you. I let you and Maddy down, and I'm sorry."

"Sam, will you just listen to me for one second?" Dean insisted. "I shouldn't have asked you to make that promise, okay? It wasn't fair of me. I wouldn't have been able to keep it either."

Sam searched his eyes. "When Jessica died," he said softly. "It all happened so quickly. My nightmare, rushing by, and it was all I could do to get myself out of there before I burned to death as well."

Dean shivered at the thought of arriving at Stanford in time for his brother's funeral.

"But when I saw you up there, and Mamaw was keeping the demon busy... I knew I could do it, Dean. I knew I could get you down from there. I had to try..." he finished miserably.

"Sam?" Dean said, and Sam met his eyes. "You saved my life. You protected Maddy. You did good, okay? If you hadn't pulled me down when you did... I don't think all the morphine in the world would have been of help to me right now."

Sam's tears spilled and he bent his head, fingers gripping the covers on the side of the bed.

"It's okay, Sam," Dean repeated, as his little brother's shoulders shook. "We're okay."

888

Dean spent the next few days in bed for the most part, allowed up only to use the bathroom and eat. Sam was always there to help him, strong hands carefully lifting him to his feet and holding him up while the world steadied around him. In the afternoons Sam would bring Maddy in and sit with her on the wide bed, propping her up against him in the circle of his crossed legs, so Dean could spend some time with his daughter. Maddy didn't care that he couldn't sit up for long periods of time, she just wanted to see her father and smile and coo at him when he played with her.

Dean felt as if he were existing in some kind of limbo. Dazed from the pain meds and his body's efforts to heal. Hardly able to grasp the idea that the first, major battle with the demon was over.

Worried about how long a reprieve they had until the next battle.

Mamaw visited with him on the second day after Dean was hurt and told him what she knew.

"It was old," she told him. "And evil, but I don't have to tell you that. I take comfort in the fact that as soon as I saw it, I knew how to see it off."

"How long do we have before it comes back?"

Mamaw parted the room's thick curtains and looked out at the thick snow on the window sills. "Years," she said softly. "I wish I could tell you more than that."

Dean rubbed the tight bandage around his belly. "I wonder if Sam will know when it's back," he mused.

"Well, he'll be better prepared next time," Mamaw said briskly, dropping the curtain and crossing to the bed. "Even if you can't find a way to kill it between now and then, he'll know all I know about sending it back to hell. The boy's taken to the rites like a duck to water."

"He always was better at Latin than me," Dean said absently.

"Time to change the dressing on your back," Mamaw said. "I'll call Sam."

"Mamaw?"

The old lady stopped and turned a birdlike look on him.

"Thank you," Dean said sincerely. "Did I remember to say that yet?"

"I wish I could have done more," Mamaw said. "This demon, son, it ain't finished with your family yet. And when it does come back, well, it's gonna be mighty pissed."

"We'll deal with it," Dean said, more confident than he really felt. "You bought us some time. Sam and me, we'll handle it from here."

Mamaw's eyes twinkled. "I believe you will."

Dean began pulling at the clips holding his bandages in place, letting the material fall away from his skin. Sam came in with the first aid kit and sat down behind him without a word, taking up the slack end of the bandage and carefully unwinding it.

"Where's Maddy?"

"Mamaw's got her in one of those swing things she can sit in. Trace brought it up this morning and I hung it in the kitchen. Maddy's having a ball."

"Trace?" Dean winced as Sam pulled the thick pad of gauze away from his back. The salve had dried a little in places.

"Sorry," Sam said, sounding like he was wincing too. "Trace is Mamaw's least child, that's her youngest to us outsiders. He's about sixty and built like a bear."

"Oh, that's good," Dean sighed as Sam smoothed the thick white ointment on his back. He sat still under the gentle motions, letting the cool antiseptic salve work its magic on him. Sam worked in silence, his big hands gentle as he carefully traced the damaged skin. "Sam?" Dean asked a little apprehensively. He knew he could trust Sam to tell him the truth, but part of him wasn't even sure he wanted the whole truth right now. A sugar coated lie would be easier to swallow. "The burn... How does it look? And please don't say it could have been worse, okay? I don't want to know how it could have been, I want to know how it is."

Sam wiped his hands on a towel and lifted a square of fresh gauze. "Dean, you have first degree burns, okay? Which wouldn't be too bad except for the sheer amount of skin involved." Sam carefully pressed the gauze to his back and it clung to the thick ointment while Sam started to wind the bandage back around him. "It's red, it's swollen, and I don't have to tell you how much it hurts. You were wearing a t-shirt which luckily pretty much burned away, so nothing melted onto your skin. And I won't say it could have been worse if you don't want me too, but the fact is we're damn lucky. If these burns had been deeper you could have gone into shock before we got you down off this mountain in the middle of a blizzard. If they'd been deeper you'd be looking at skin grafts and months of healing."

Dean listened, lifting his arms so Sam could reach around and wrap the bandage snugly.

"It'll scar a little, but again, not as badly as it would have if it had been deeper." Sam fastened the clips back on and Dean tilted his head to glance at him. His younger brother's face was serious. "It could have been worse," he said softly.

And Dean acknowledged that with a nod.

888

Dean graduated to sweatpants and one of Sam's soft, baggy hoodies, and was finally allowed out of the bedroom. Sam carried in an old rocker from the parlor and Dean allowed himself to be settled in it, feeling like an old lady but bending to the pressure from Sam and Mamaw. He refused the patchwork blanket for his lap though. A man had to make a stand somewhere.

Maddy was bouncing in her swing, little pointed toes flexing happily in soft, woolen booties. She wore white stockings and a thick corduroy dress, and her happy squeaks brought a smile to Dean's face. She really was having a ball. He wrapped his hands around a warm mug of coffee and enjoyed being out of the bedroom for a while. The world felt more real here in Mamaw's kitchen, with good things cooking on the stove, and Sam sitting at the table bent earnestly over a book. He was listening to Mamaw as she recited words at him, then copying them down in his strong sloping hand.

For the first time since Sam had told him about his vision, Dean allowed himself to think about the future. Years. They had years to search for a way to end this threat once and for all. A way to kill a demon. They had Dad's journal and everything he'd taught them their whole life.

Dean looked at his daughter, who was industrially shaking a rubber ring and then jamming it in her mouth. So much had changed in his life since she'd been born. She'd helped fill the empty place inside him left by Sam's departure from his life, and his father's death. She'd given him a hope in the future, then left him racked with guilt when he found out about Sam's girlfriend. When he'd added the date and the fire together in his head, and realized that now Maddy was caught up in this as well.

Not that it would have changed anything if he had known before Jessica died. Maddy would still have been born, and wrapped herself around his heart. He still would have been here, worried about the kind of future he was going to be able to give her. Right now it was easy. All the baby needed he and Sam could give her. As she grew older she was going to need more, she deserved more. But he and Sam were committed to this search now, they had no choice, it was life and death.

Maddy flung her rubber ring, then looked surprised as it rolled across the room. Sam handed her a slice of apple and she immediately stuck it into her mouth and gummed at it. Sam shaved off another slice and offered it on the end of the knife. Dean took it and chewed on the floury winter apple.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean said, a little more shortly than he'd intended. He hated being fussed over, he always had. He shot his brother an apologetic look, and Sam shook his head and sliced himself some apple.

"You shouldn't sit too long, this first time," Mamaw said, lifting Maddy from her swing and kissing her round, sticky cheek. "Time for you and daddy to nap, hey, sweetheart?"

Rolling his eyes at being included in the napping order with his 5 month old daughter, Dean let Sam help him up and hover next to him as he walked back down the hall. The bed did feel welcome and Dean leaned carefully against the soft pillows as Sam dealt with Maddy's diaper and wiped the apple juice from her chin.

"You want me to stay?" he said as he laid Maddy down next to his brother and blocked the baby in with pillows. She wasn't rolling much yet, but she was trying, and the pillows would make sure she didn't roll right off the bed while Dean slept.

"No, Sam," Dean said sarcastically. "I'm sure the baby and I can somehow manage to nap without you."

"Now I know you're feeling better." Sam smirked. "Call if you need anything."

"What a wonderful wife he'll make someday," Dean muttered and Maddy kicked her legs, spotted the pink ribbon on her booty, and began pulling at it. Dean pulled the booties off and tossed them away, them pulled off the little white tights Sam had just put back on over her diaper. "You just wanna play with your toes, don't you?" Dean said, and Maddy kicked her legs happily, pink toes wriggling.

"This little piggy," Dean said, stroking her big toe. "Went to market. This little piggy stayed at home." Maddy grabbed for her father's hands and Dean wiggled her next toe. "This little piggy had roast beef. And this little piggy had none. And this little piggy went weeee," He traced a finger up her belly and chucked her under her chin. "All the way home!"

Maddy arched her back in excitement, loving the attention even if she didn't understand the whole piggy reference. Dean chuckled, for a moment seeing little Sammy, back home in his nursery, gurgling happily as their mom played _This Little Piggy_ with him, tickling his little pink toes until he squealed with excitement.

Dean repeated the game and Maddy watched big-eyed as he counted off her toes, then squirmed when he tickled under her chin.

"She's supposed to be napping."

Dean looked up to see his brother framed in the doorway, arms crossed, a wide grin on his face.

"I'm wearing her out," Dean told him.

Maddy had succeeded in stuffing her toes in her mouth and was gumming them happily. "Yeah, it looks like it," Sam said dryly.

"Mom used to play that game with you," Dean said, refusing to be embarrassed at being caught playing with his daughter, even if it was _This Little Piggy_.

"Yeah?" Sam tossed the pillows aside and sat down on the bed, lifting Maddy up into his lap. Deprived of her toes she settled for grabbing her uncle's hand and gnawing on one of his knuckles. "You remember that?"

"Yep." Dean caught one of Maddy's little pink feet and smoothed his thumb over the delicate arch. Sometimes he thought he'd never get over how tiny her toes were, how soft her skin was. "Sam? You don't remember anything, do you? About Mom? About that night?"

"Course not. I wasn't much older than Maddy..." Sam broke off and Dean felt perceptive eyes on him. "Maddy won't remember anything, Dean," Sam said gently. "She really is fine."

"Yeah." Dean nodded. "And she's gonna stay fine. But that means we have a search in front of us, Sam. And it's gonna be a long, hard one."

"I know," Sam acknowledged.

"That means you won't be going back to school any time soon."

"I know that too," Sam said softly. "Somehow school doesn't seem so important any more." He met Dean's eyes. "We've lost so much, Dean. All we have is each other, the three of us. Whatever we have to do to keep our family safe and together, we'll do it."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "But, hey. It's not gonna be forever. We survived this battle, we'll win the next one. And then you can go back to school and have a brilliant career and support me and Maddy in the style to which we would like to become accustomed."

"Uh huh," Sam said, a smile breaking out. "How come I get to support you two?"

"I'll do my share," Dean assured him. "I'll er, cook. Or something."

"Your idea of cooking is to open a can."

"Uh, yeah," Dean said, as if it were obvious. "Food comes in a can. That's cooking."

"I don't know, Maddy," Sam said to his niece. "I think your lazy-ass father should get a job, what do you think?"

"Don't say ass in front of the baby. Bitch."

"Don't say bitch in front of the baby. Jerk."

"Go on, Maddy," Dean urged. "Bite him."

Maddy was still happily gumming away at her uncle's knuckle and Sam looked down at his drool covered finger and raised a brow.

"Take that," Dean told him, and Sam threw back his head and laughed.

888

They left on a sunny day at the beginning of February, with the snow still piled in drifts along the side of the road. The car had been towed down to the garage once the blizzard was over and thawed out. She sat now, loaded with presents from the Morgan clan, including a suitcase full of hand-me-down clothes and a box of preserves from Mamaw's larder.

A few members of the family stood on the porch as Sam and Dean made their farewells. Mamaw was cuddling Maddy one last time, kissing her apple cheeks and fussing with the pink bonnet she'd knitted for her. "You better bring that little girl back to see me now and then," she ordered, wiping away a stray tear with one work worn hand as she handed the baby back to her father.

"We will," Dean promised, patting Maddy's back through the thick snowsuit as she fussed a little.

"I know folks say don't be a stranger, but I mean it," Mamaw continued firmly. "You boys are welcome here any time. And not just when a demon is on your trail neither."

"Thank you," Sam said sincerely, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her lined cheek.

"For everything," Dean said, kissing her other cheek and meeting her bright, birdlike eyes. She nodded. "You take care of this family of yours," she said softly. "Reckon I don't have to tell you that they're the most important thing in life."

"No, ma'am. You don't."

They climbed into the car and waved a few more times as Dean started her up and let her growl to life. He couldn't sit for too long, but he'd wanted to be the one to drive down off this mountain and put her back on the open road. They drove slowly down the rutted drive, turned onto the freshly ploughed road, and the house and the Morgan family disappeared from view.

They didn't talk much as they drove down the mountain. Dean honked the horn as they passed the garage, and Mamaw's great grandson waved at them from the pumps. Then they were on the blacktop, heading east.

"Tell me when you want me to take over," Sam said and Dean nodded. Sam turned back to the view and looked out as the snowy trees rushed by. He would never say this to Dean, but he'd felt a little nervous leaving Mamaw's house. For a while it had almost been like being a kid again, leaving the big decisions in the hands of someone else. Letting the grown-ups protect him and fight his battles for him.

The nervous feeling was fading now though, with the road stretching out in front of them. They'd gotten lucky this time, and found someone to help them. That might not always be the case. They would have to fight their own battles next time, and that was okay. Sam wanted to, and he knew Dean did too. Until this threat was no longer hanging over their heads they would never truly be free to live their own lives and make their own decisions.

Sam cast his brother a glance, noting the good color of his skin, the clear brightness of his eyes. He would never forget how close he'd come to losing Dean. Jessica was gone, and his grief for her was still a sharp pain inside him. But Sam wasn't alone any more, and, no matter what decisions he made in the future, he would never be alone again. He'd learned the lesson that Dean had always seemed to know.

That family was everything.

Dean glanced at him. "Okay, Sammy?"

Sam smiled. "Okay."

"Dadada!" Maddy said in the back seat and Sam's smile widened to a grin. "Maddy's okay as well."

"Then let's get this show on the road." Dean said. And then laughed joyfully as he sped up and they headed into the future.

The End.


End file.
